


Hannictober 2020 Prompts

by Dovesummer



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: A wide variety of AU, Anal Sex, Blood, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Hannictober Challenge, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rimming, Smut, Tags Are Hard, Various states of relationship, wax play (not hardcore)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:40:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 26,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26877583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dovesummer/pseuds/Dovesummer
Summary: + connected in my head, can be read alone* personal fav1. Sweater - fluff2. Pumpkin Pie - fluff*3. Cross Roads - AU, demon Will4. Horror Movies - S1, gang watches movies5. Pumpkin Spice - Will's a tease6. Haunting - Future Fic, haunted house7. Sweaters - Hannibal pouts, smut8. Possessed - AU, exorcist Will9. Apple Orchard - outdoor sex +10. Fake Blood - S1, Halloween party11. Scythe - fluff +12. Apple Picking - fluff +13. Corn Maze - S2, Will & Hannibal14. Dark Forest - AU, Will investigates*15. Curse - Will smudges +16. Boo! - cont of 1317. Candles - wax play +18. Jack O'Lantern - pumpkin carving +19. Bonfire - S'mores +20. Full Moon - cont of 1621. Bones - they find bones +22. Falling Leaves - connected by leaves*+23. Blood Red Setting Sun - Murder vignette24. Candy Corn - S1, DIY candy corn25. Spirits - smut +26. Trick or Treat - cont of 2427. Costume Shopping - S1, Will & Abigail28. Hot Cider - Hannibal makes cider +29. First Frost - fluff +30. Trick or Treat - cont of 2731. Halloween - Happy Halloween! +
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 60
Kudos: 212





	1. Scarves

Will stepped into the house feeling slightly chilled. It was early October but already the temperature was beginning to drop, and the jacket he’d worn for his afternoon walk was too light. 

He would need to add to their stores of firewood. He had been, diligently, throughout even the warm weather, but the chill in the air was one that proceeded a frost. He might not have Hannibal’s gift when it came to smell, but he had lived in cold climates long enough to know the scent of coming snow. 

He stowed his shoes and jacket in the entryway and walked into the den. Unsurprisingly, Hannibal had a fire going. The man liked fire. Any opportunity he had to use the fireplace he took. _Ambiance_ , Hannibal would say. 

Will swore if it were 100 degrees out Hannibal would light a fire for “ambiance.” It was a wonder he hadn’t burned more of his victims. 

That thought gave Will pause. There was nothing to say he hadn’t, after all. The Chesapeake Ripper was far from he only hat Hannibal had worn. It was entirely possible he had burned victims in the past. Will was suddenly torn between wanting to ask - wanting to rip down any remaining walls and know _everything_ \- and never wanting to know. 

He decided on not knowing, at least for now. He was too cold for that conversation; his priority was getting closer to the fire and getting warm. 

Hannibal looked up as he entered the room. “You look chilled to the bone, Will,” he said, as he stood and handed Will a blanket. 

Will grunted in response. He still distrusted Hannibal’s small acts of kindness on some level, despite having lived with the man for several months with no evidence of ulterior motive (though Hannibal was cunning enough to camouflage it well, Will was certain). Despite the fact that Will had chosen to be there and, if they were being honest, continued to choose to be there again each day. Despite other things. The unspoken reasons Will continued to choose to be there each day. 

As Will wrapped the blanket around himself in front of the fire, he felt Hannibal settle himself on the floor so that their knees were toughing lightly. Hannibal had something in his hands and he leaned toward Will, holding it in front of him. 

For a split second Will thought Hannibal was about to strangle him. Rather than be disturbed by the thought he found himself vaguely aroused, and he leaned toward Hannibal, lips slightly parted and ready to allow whatever was about to happen to happen. 

Instead of strangling him, Hannibal wrapped a scarf around Will’s neck. It felt soft, luxurious and deliciously warm. 

“The blue accentuates your eyes,” Hannibal said, wrapping it around Will’s neck once more and pulling the other man even closer. Will’s parted lips and rapid breath were a vision of loveliness that Hannibal catalogued with all the other images of Will he kept in his memory palace. 

As a deep blush spread across Will’s face, it was all Hannibal could do not to bridge the distance and place kisses on those heated cheeks and lovely lips, but he refrained. In this he was determined. Will must come to him. 

“Thank you, Hannibal,” Will said shyly. 

Hannibal shrugged. “I have been looking for something to occupy my time, and the market had some lovely yarns.”

Will looked at him, surprised. “You made this?”

Hannibal’s laugh was slight enough to barely be there. “Of course,” he said. “I enjoy knitting. It’s very soothing.”

“Of course you do,” Will said. He tried for sarcastic, but his small, fond smile was impossible to hide.


	2. Pumpkin Pie

Will’s version of pumpkin pie had always been store-bought and covered in whipped cream. 

Hannibal’s pumpkin pie was, unsurprisingly, much more of a production. The crust, Hannibal said, was the most important part. It couldn’t be too heavy, too flaky, or too buttery; it had to perfectly compliment the filling of the pie. 

“I’ve never been a fan of crusts, to be honest,” Will confessed, adding ice water and raking it through the dough with his fingers as instructed. He wasn’t sure why the water needed to be iced, or even if he was raking it properly - what did that even mean? - but was content to follow Hannibal’s lead in all things culinary. 

“You’ll be a fan of this one,” Hannibal responded, confident as usual. Will rolled his eyes and smiled. 

“Am I doing this right?” he asked. He was rewarded with Hannibal’s arms around his waist and chin on his shoulder. 

“Perfect,” Hannibal said. “In fact, you can stop. It’s moistened, and you don’t want to overwork it or it will become tough.”

“Allow it to come together on its own,” Will said softly. 

“Something like that,” Hannibal agreed. “It needs to be refrigerated for at least half an hour before we roll it out.” He made no move to remove himself from Will, and Will leaned back into him, enjoying their shared warmth, before pulling away to grab plastic wrap for the dough. 

After the dough was deposited safely in the refrigerator to chill, Will turned and placed his hands on Hannibal’s shoulders. “What shall we do to pass the time?” he asked, looking up at Hannibal through half-lidded eyes, a soft curl falling across his forehead. 

Hannibal gripped Will tightly around the hips. _Clever boy, you know exactly what you do to me,_ he thought. 

“We need to make the filling,” Hannibal said, though he was having trouble concentrating on exactly what need to go into the filling - besides pumpkin - with Will’s arms wrapping more tightly around his neck and Will’s lips so close to his own. “It will take 30-45 minutes, the dough will be chilled by then.” 

“You said the dough needed to chill for _at least_ 30 minutes,” Will said, now speaking directly into Hannibal’s mouth. “Longer could only benefit it more. Overnight, perhaps.” 

It was difficult for Hannibal to argue with Will’s lips on his, or with the gentle but insistent pull toward their bedroom.


	3. Cross Roads

Hannibal filled in the small hole he’d dug, covering the objects. He rose, brushing the dirt from his pants, and surveyed the empty roads. 

Kneeling in the dirt at midnight, or, in fact, at any time, was not something he was prone to do. Neither was burying sacrificial objects at a cross roads. He was all but certain this was not going to work but he was out of options. Mischa was out of options. 

He waited, impatient. How did one know if a demon summoning had been successful? Was there a gust of wind, perhaps? A drop in temperature? Hannibal felt nothing. There was no change in the air or in himself. He sighed and turned to leave. As he stepped out of the road he heard a voice behind him. 

“Leaving so soon?” The voice was gentle but with an edge of challenge. Hannibal turned. A slim young man with dark hair and dark eyes stood in the center of the crossroads. He was dressed in a similarly dark, smartly tailored suit. He looked suave, expensive and out of place in the middle of a dirt road. The man smiled. It was an unsettling smile, slightly predatory. 

“Will,” the man said by way of introduction, though he did not extend a hand. 

“Hannibal.” 

Will opened his arms, palms up. “I believe you are here to bargain, are you not?” 

Hannibal nodded. “I request my sister’s illness to be cured.”

“Your soul for her health,” Will said. “Selfless.” His tone was flat, without surprise or judgement. 

“I would not be so selfless for any other,” Hannibal admitted. 

Will smiled that same wolfish smile. “Explanations are not required to complete the contract.”

“What is?” Hannibal asked, unsure what to expect. Blood? A mark on his person? Perhaps it was more mundane, and he would sign a contract on paper with a gold pen.

“It is sealed with a kiss,” Will said, placing a cold hand on Hannibal’s chest and tilting his head up to press their lips together. It was not the chaste kiss Hannibal expected. Will’s tongue probed his mouth and Hannibal parted his lips, allowing the exploration. It was surprisingly pleasurable, sending a tingle down his spine and setting all his nerves alight. Acting on instinct, he pulled Will closer, deepening the kiss until he felt the pressure of Will’s hand, still on his chest, pressing him gently away. Hannibal was panting. Will merely smiled and licked his lips. 

“The contract is complete,” Will said. “See you in ten years, Hannibal.” 

This time Hannibal felt a rush of wind as Will disappeared into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who watch Supernatural, yes, sealing the deal with a kiss and the ten year timeframe are definitely from that show. I haven't watched it in a few years, but I enjoyed their cross road demon lore. :)


	4. Horror Movies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So . . . this chapter got a little out of control. I apologize for the unpolished nature of it.
> 
> Obviously set during S1, cause Beverly. Beverly is awesome.

Will looked up from his paperwork as the sound of laughter rose from across the lab. He shouldn’t have, because as soon as he did Beverly noticed him looking and beckoned him over. Will sighed and shook his head, returning to the report. 

He had no doubt they were planning some sort of outing and he didn’t want to be part of it. His head ached worse than usual and he was exhausted. The crime scene they’d been at earlier had been particularly hard for him; the rage the perpetrator had loosed on his young victim had been truly magnificent. The burn of it in his mind and under his skin as he worked the scene had run through what little reserves of energy he had left. All he wanted to do was go home, pour a drink and relax with his dogs. 

“No,” he said preemptively as Beverly, never one to let something go, appeared in front of him. 

“Oh come on,” she smiled. “I haven’t even asked you yet.”

Will rubbed a hand agitatedly across his face. “I’m tired,” he said. “It’s been a tough week and you know I’m not good at socializing.” 

“No, but you might be better at it if you made an attempt. And I mean ever, at any point.” She watched him and Will could feel the concern behind the gaze. As usual he refused to meet her eyes, focusing instead on a point between her earlobe and cheekbone. “An evening out with friends might be just what you need.”

“Are we friends?” Will asked gruffly, regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth. Beverly had always been kind to him. 

She seemed to take the question in stride; based on her smile she might even have been amused. “Well, I like to think you and I are, and Price and Zeller could at least be considered people who like you.”

Will met her eyes, briefly, the look in his indicating he wasn’t entirely sure he agreed with her assessment of Price and Zeller’s feelings. 

“Fine,” Will said with a huff. “What is it you want me to participate in anyway?”

“We’re planning a horror movie night,” she beamed. 

“Because we don’t get enough of that around here?” Will asked. He’d never been a particular fan of horror movies. They all paled in comparison to the horror that he saw constantly behind his eyes. He shook his head at Beverly. “Thanks, but I think I’ll pass.”

“But Will,” Beverly implored, “it’s October. It’s a tradition. Halloween and all that. We’ll make popcorn, drink cider mixed with rum - it’ll be fun!”

Will’s response was interrupted by the sound of the door opening. They looked up to see Hannibal entering. Beverly wasted no time in pouncing on him.

“Doctor Lecter!” She said, excitedly, and then, without bothering to ask him why he was there, “you’re just in time to help me convince Will he needs to be part of our horror movie night.”

Hannibal glanced at Will and then, smiling that polite smile of his, back at Beverly. “I’ve never found horror movies to be all that realistic,” he said. 

Will released a breath and said a silent thank you that Hannibal seemed to catch, if the twitch at the corner of his mouth was anything to go by. 

“Well, you and Will seem to have a hatred of horror movies in common,” Beverly laughed but made no move to leave. She was, Will knew, not someone to be deterred once she’d set a goal. And her goal seemed to be getting him, and now possibly Hannibal, to agree to the group outing. 

She smiled conspiratorially at Hannibal. “You should come, then you and Will can criticize them together and we can all have a fun evening.” 

“If you’re free tonight,” she qualified, belatedly seeming to realize that Hannibal, unlike the rest of them, might actually have plans. 

Hannibal looked over at Will again, smiling. “I find myself available,” he said. “And, given your suggestion, I suppose I’ll attend if Will does.”

Beverly’s excitement was palpable. Will could have sworn she was about to start clapping her hands and jumping up and down with glee. 

“Well I can’t very well say no now, can I?” Will gave Hannibal an irritated look, to which the doctor’s only response was that maddeningly polite smile. 

Hannibal turned back to Beverly. “You likely had another location in mind, but I would be happy to host if that would be amenable. Though someone else will need to provide the movies, as I’m afraid I don’t have any.” 

“Do you even have a TV?” Will asked, still irritated. 

“Of course,” Hannibal said placidly. “Though I confess I rarely watch it. I usually keep it in an upstairs closet.” 

Will snorted at that, forcing himself not to roll his eyes. Hannibal shot him an amused look.

“We wouldn’t be an imposition?” Beverly asked, though Will could tell she was only asking to be polite. 

“Not at all. Shall we say 7pm? I’ll prepare a light supper.” Before turning to leave, Hannibal placed a friendly hand on Will’s shoulder. 

“See you then,” Will said, and Hannibal was gone with a flourish. Will glanced at Beverly who was waggling her eyebrows at him. He determinedly ignored her and went to pour himself a cup of coffee. He had another class to teach, paperwork to finish, and now he was committed to spending an evening at Hannibal’s. He was going to need the caffeine.

**

Will arrived last. Hannibal’s expression as he opened the door was one of fondness and, Will thought, the barest hint of relief. 

“We thought you might have had second thoughts,” Hannibal said softly. Will nodded. He had. In fact, he’d intended on driving home and calling to offer his apologies, but instead had found himself in front of Hannibal’s home. 

Will began to shrug out of his jacket, as Hannibal, ever the polite host, moved to help remove it. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said, breath tickling Will’s ear and sending a little shiver down his spine. 

After hanging Will’s jacket, Hannibal ushered him inside. “There’s food in the kitchen, if you are hungry.” 

“Buffet style?” Will said, looking in. Some of it looked suspiciously like snack food.

Hannibal smiled. “I thought it more appropriate.” 

Will laughed. “I thought your definition of ‘light supper’ would be three courses instead of seven,” he teased, earning another fond smile from Hannibal. 

“Allow me to make you a plate,” Hannibal said, “and then we can join your coworkers in the den. I believe they’ve already started the first movie, something about a chainsaw massacre?”

Will gave him a disbelieving look. “You’ve heard of _Texas Chainsaw Massacre_.” Hannibal’s face betrayed nothing, his hand a warm, firm presence on the small of Will’s back as he gently steered him into the kitchen. He grabbed a plate and began filling it with small portions of the various dishes. A delicious looking pasta with meat sauce, actual salad, garlic rolls that were no doubt handmade. 

“It looks amazing, thank you,” Will said, accepting the plate. He took a few bites, Hannibal watching for his pleased reaction. Delicious, as always. 

“We can head out to the den, if you would like,” Hannibal said. “But I thought you might prefer to eat in peace before joining your coworkers.” 

Will looked at him gratefully, and was just taking another bite as Beverly popped her head into the kitchen. “Will!” she said. “I figured you were here when Hannibal disappeared. Come join us, the movie’s just started.”

Will nodded, chewing. “I’ll be there in a minute,” he said. “I didn’t want to spill anything on the furniture.”

Beverly took Will’s relaxed posture and the way Hannibal was watching him, forearms resting on the counter so he could lean toward the other man. She smiled softly. “Good call, you are kind of a klutz,” she said and left. 

“Would you like a drink?” Hannibal asked. 

“Whiskey, if you don’t mind,” Will requested. 

Hannibal reached into a cabinet and pulled down two tumblers and a bottle of whiskey Will didn’t recognize but was probably expensive, smokey and deliciously smooth. He took a small sip after Hannibal had poured for them, unsurprised to find that he was right. 

He sighed as he finished his food. “We should probably join them,” Will said.

“Yes,” Hannibal said as he collected the used plate and topped off Will’s whiskey. Will gave him another grateful look, pleased to be allowed to ease into the evening.

“Finally,” Zeller said as they entered the den, “we’re halfway through the movie. We thought you were going to stay in the kitchen all night.”

Will flushed slightly as Beverly elbowed Zeller in the ribs. 

“Popcorn?” Beverly offered the bowl. 

Will shook his head. “No, thank you.”

Beverly, Price and Zeller had taken the couch, so Will and Hannibal settled in the loveseat. Will tried to ignore the implications of that, knowing full well Price and Zeller would probably snicker about it anyway. He was glad that it was only the five of them, having wondered if Beverly would have invited Alana, or even Jack. It was easier with fewer people.

Between the food, the whiskey and the small group Will felt at ease, or as at ease as he thought he could feel. He relaxed into the soft cushion of the loveseat, cradling the whiskey that Hannibal continued to top off whenever it got low. The first movie ended and Will watched lazily as his friends argued over what to watch next. 

“ _The Town that Dreaded Sundown_ or _The Exorcist_?” Beverly asked. 

“ _The Exorcist_ is a classic,” Zeller said. 

“They both came out in the 70s. They’re both classics,” Price corrected. 

“Hannibal?” Beverly asked. 

Hannibal shook his head. “I’m afraid I haven’t seen either, so I have no preference.” 

That sparked some rather animated conversation about how it was possible Hannibal had never seen _The Exorcist._

“Did you live under a rock?” Zeller asked. 

“Rude,” Will chimed in. Hannibal and Beverly looked amused. Zeller looked annoyed. Price might actually have rolled his eyes, but Will wasn’t entirely sure. 

“What’s your pick for next movie, Will?” Beverly asked, wisely switching topics. 

Will waved his hand vaguely and leaned back into the loveseat. His friends laughed and Hannibal gave him a friendly pat on the knee. 

“Ok, Will’s drunk,” Beverly said. laughing. “Let’s put in _The Exorcist_.” 

Will _was_ feeling a little buzzed. He wasn’t entirely sure how much whiskey he’d had, since Hannibal kept topping him off. He wasn’t sure how he was getting home, either, and was glad he’d called a neighbor earlier to check on the dogs. 

He didn’t remember closing his eyes, but he opened them to Hannibal gently removing the glass from his hand to place it on the side table. 

“Your hands are nice,” Will said. 

Hannibal smiled. “Let me get you some water.” Will thought he felt a kiss on his forehead. His friends were going to have a field day with that later, but at the moment he didn’t care. It felt nice to have someone care enough about him to kiss his forehead. He opened his eyes as Hannibal handed him a glass of water and realized everyone was gone. 

“Oh,” he sat up quickly and regretted it just as quickly, his stomach jostling unpleasantly and his head throbbing with the movement. He moaned. 

Hannibal brushed the hair off Will’s forehead and placed a cold, damp washcloth on the back of his neck. 

“It helps with the nausea and should allow some natural relief for your head as well,” Hannibal explained. He sat down next to Will on the loveseat. “Drink your water,” he said. Will did, already beginning to feel better. 

“What time is it?” Will asked. 

“It’s after 2am. Your friends have been gone for some time. I thought about putting you to bed in the guest room, but I didn’t want to wake you.”

“God, I’m sorry,” Will said. Hannibal said nothing, but kissed his forehead again. Will looked up at him. He didn’t consciously think about it - had not, in fact even realized the impulse existed before he acted on it - but moved quickly and deliberately to press their lips together. 

Hannibal didn’t respond at first, and Will thought perhaps he’d made a mistake, or had whiskey breath, or maybe Hannibal was a gentleman and was concerned about Will’s level of sobriety. But as he was about to pull away and apologize, Hannibal opened his mouth and pressed forward, pushing Will back into the loveseat at the same time his tongue pressed into Will’s mouth. 

Will felt a pleasant warmth spread through his body as he pulled Hannibal closer, wanting to feel the press of the other man’s body against his. They kissed for a few more minutes until Hannibal pulled away, gently breaking the kiss and resting his forehead against Will’s.

“I think,” Hannibal said, slightly breathless, “that we should move upstairs.” 

“And I think,” Will said, as Hannibal pulled him up and kissed him again, “that having you in a bed sounds wonderful.”


	5. Pumpkin Spice

They always entered the airport separately when traveling by plane, which they didn’t do often due to the security and surveillance. But when they did, Will took the opportunity to visit Starbucks. The chain had managed to insinuate itself into a number of major airports and train stations across Europe and, although Will couldn't always find it, he was always delighted when he did. 

Hannibal was disgusted by both the insidiousness of the chain as well as Will’s patronage of it. Which, they both knew, was exactly why Will went. When they met up at the gate, Hannibal eyed the large paper cup with distaste, momentarily refusing to meet Will’s eyes - which was endlessly amusing for Will. 

He held the cup out to Hannibal as an offering.

“I don’t know how you can drink that,” was the only response. Hannibal still refused to look directly at either him or the offending coffee cup. 

“Pumpkin Spice Latte,” Will said. “It’s fall. Tis the season and all that.” He took the top off and made a show of enjoying it, allowing the foam to coat his upper lip so he could make an equally impressive show of licking it off. That never failed to get Hannibal’s attention. 

“What am I going to do with you?” Hannibal asked, all his attention now focused on Will’s mouth. 

“Oh.” Will ran his pointer finger along the inside of the cup, covering it in the milk froth and crema stuck to the sides before bringing it to his mouth and sucking it clean. “I can think of a few things.” 

Hannibal muttered something that sounded suspiciously like Lithuanian for “why do I let you do these things to me?” under his breath as Will grinned at him placidly.


	6. Haunting

No one had been in the house in years. It was a legend in Baltimore, sitting vacant for well over 50 years after it had been officially made part of the Evil Minds Museum. It had never been opened to the public, but recently the few staff members that entered it had been complaining about “spooky” things happening: the feel of a fire when none was there, phantom smells of food cooking in the kitchen, a book appearing on the coffee table when it had definitely been in the library the day before. 

Some of the staff reported hearing voices - the hushed tones of a conversation occurring just out of hearing range, so that voices were audible but the words could not be made out - only to find that the rest of the house was empty.

There was plenty known about Hannibal the Cannibal, the infamous serial killer once known as the Chesapeake Ripper. Although experts suspected he was responsible for dozens more murders than those attributed to the Ripper. 

Less was known about Will Graham, the FBI consultant who either sacrificed himself to take down a killer or ran away with him. They had gone over a cliff and into the ocean, that much was known for sure. Eventually, they were presumed dead although no bodies were ever recovered and there were rumors of sightings around the globe. Unsolved murders around the world were attributed to one or both of them. 

People continued to attribute unsolved crimes to the pair, although it would be surprising if either of them were still alive. Even the younger of the two would be well into his 90s. 

Sam reviewed her notes, readying the intro for the night’s episode. People never tired of hearing about murder, ghosts, or star crossed lovers - and she intended to lean heavily on the rumors that Will Graham had fallen in love and run away with a serial killer. 

The equipment was all set up and ready for the evening and Sam was getting ready to take off for dinner when she heard someone out front. As she made her way to the front of the house she saw an elderly gentleman leaning on an elegant cane and peering in the front door. 

“Oh, hello,” he said. Taking in Sam’s annoyed expression he gave her an apologetic smile. “Please forgive my rudeness. I was surprised to see the door open and anyone going in and out. I used to know the man that lived here.”

Sam’s surprise showed on her face. “You knew Hannibal Lecter?”

“Oh yes. It was a long time ago, obviously. He used to throw these wonderful dinner parties.” The look in the man’s eyes was momentarily dreamy, before he made a disgusted face. “No one knew what they were being served, of course.”

“Did you know Will Graham as well?” Sam asked. The man nodded. 

“Do you mind if a grab a recorder and ask you some questions about them?” Sam asked, excited. “We’re filming a show about them and I would love to incorporate some of your memories.”

“If I can come in and look around, consider it a deal,” the old man said. Sam nodded, and he made his way inside. He walked steadily, but leaned heavily on the the cane. Sam darted out to her vehicle to grab a handheld recorder. It would be easier than the equipment she currently had set up, and would probably make him more comfortable.

She had trouble finding the recorder, and it took her a solid 15 minutes of searching before she returned to the house. “Sir?” she called, with no response. She hadn’t seen him leave. Glancing into the room the staff called the library, she saw him slumped over, asleep in an armchair. Except something about his posture was wrong. 

“Oh no,” Sam said, placing her fingers on his neck. He was warm, but there was no pulse. She sighed as she called 911 and had the grace to feel guilty that she hoped this wouldn’t delay her evening too much. 

It was only after the man had been loaded into an ambulance - though it was clear he was already gone - that Sam realized her equipment in that room had been recording after all and it had recorded the man’s death. _How morbid,_ she thought, but immediately wanted to know what was on it. 

“Hannibal?” the old man said on the audio. “Are you here?” 

The question was followed by a burst of static. 

“I’ve missed you,” the man’s voice came through clearly again. “We always said we couldn’t survive separation. I’ve survived alone for too long.” Sam gasped.

Another burst of static. 

“I’m ready,” the old man said. 

A final burst of static and then silence. 

Sam fiddled with the controls, trying to get anything audible out of the static bursts. Finally something came through on the last one. A single word, but the longing could be heard even in the poor quality of the recording. _Will . . ._

Sam left the house and stared down the street, eyes tracing the path the ambulance had taken from the home. She felt a chill go down her spine.


	7. Sweaters

Will fought the urge to roll his eyes at Hannibal’s beleaguered sighs. 

“It’s just a sweater," he said.

Hannibal somehow managed to glare at him while simultaneously refusing to look at him. 

“It’s not just a sweater,” Hannibal said. If he had been anyone else he would have put air quotes around “just a sweater.” 

There was something in his tone that caused Will to stop and place his hand on Hannibal’s chest. “I’m sure we can get the blood out, if it means that much to you.”

Hannibal shook his head. “Blood is notoriously difficult to remove from any fabric. And this is cashmere.” 

Will sighed and they resumed walking. “This is a lesson in not killing impulsively,” he said. “So we don’t ruin your fancy sweaters.” His tone was teasing, but they had both gotten caught up in the moment and should be more careful. 

Hannibal stopped now, looking at Will with mild irritation. “It’s not how fancy the sweater is that bothers me,” he said. They began walking again, nearly home now. 

After a brief pause, Hannibal added softly, “You gave it to me.” 

Will looked at him, fondly. He had never expected Hannibal to be such a romantic - or, on occasion, such a sap. As he unlocked the door he said, “You know what I like best about buying you sweaters?”

“I assume you derive pleasure from controlling a portion of my wardrobe,” Hannibal responded. 

Will laughed and put his arms around Hannibal’s waist, pulling him inside. He snaked his hands underneath Hannibal’s sweater, feeling the warmth of bare skin against his palms.

“You’re adorable when you’re pouting,” Will said, tilting his head for a kiss. 

“Nothing about me is adorable,” Hannibal said. He grabbed Will’s hair and jerked his head back roughly, kissing along his neck and jaw. Will responded with a pleased moan. He pulled the ruined sweater over Hannibal’s head and let it drop to the floor. 

“What I like best about buying you sweaters,” Will said as he made quick work of unfastening Hannibal’s belt and divesting the man of his pants, “is tossing them to the floor again later.” 

Will sunk to his knees, pulling Hannibal’s briefs to the floor as he did and placing a teasing kiss on the head of other man’s cock before pulling it slowly into his mouth. 

“A blatant disregard for fine fabrics,” Hannibal said, panting. Will hollowed his cheeks, sucking hard before pulling away and looking up, pupils blown and lips swollen. 

“You’ll have to teach me some manners,” he said, swirling his tongue around the head of Hannibal’s cock and biting it - first gently, then less so - before taking it into his mouth once again. 

Hannibal cried out at the mix of pain and pleasure. He moaned, “I much prefer you without manners” before coming hard down Will’s throat. 

Will picked up the discarded sweater and wiped his mouth. “I’ll buy you a new one,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tags promised smut because I figured it’s Hannigram so there will definitely be some! But so far it’s been mostly implied, so here is at least light smut. ;)


	8. Possessed

Will reached for the vial of holy water as he was thrown mercilessly against the wall. He hit hard, feeling the air rush out of his lungs and his ankle twist and pop as he hit the floor. The vial slipped from his grasp and fell to the floor with a crash, water seeping through the cracks in the floorboards. 

A strangled moan escaped Will’s lips, and he felt his consciousness slipping away. He fought to stay awake. He wasn’t sure what would happen if he didn’t.

When he was consulted the previous day, he thought he was being called to handle a standard possession. He’d performed countless exorcisms, but most of the possessed exhibited some degree of agitation in his presence. When he’d first encountered Hannibal Lecter, the man regarded him with an eerie calm. 

“So you are William Graham, the famed exorcist,” he’d said. 

“Will,” Will corrected, though he knew it was a mistake to do so. Never give a demon personal details. Hannibal smiled. 

Will cleared his throat and proceeded to test for possession. Hannibal was clearly no fan of Catholicism, or religion in general, but in the modern era that could no longer be considered a sign of possession. In fact, Hannibal was substantially lacking in signs of possession. Will was about to decline the exorcism when he caught sight of something in the man’s eyes - a dark beast lurking just below the surface. 

Caught by surprise, Will stared, feeling the beast stare back. He agreed to the exorcism. Behind him Hannibal smiled. He seemed calm and amused, but Will could feel the barely contained curiosity. 

It was the same expression Will was facing now as Hannibal pinned him to the floor, hands on either side of his head. Hannibal leaned down until their lips were nearly touching, watching as Will sucked in deep, aching breaths. 

“It wouldn’t have worked anyway,” Hannibal said. “Your first instinct was right. I’m not possessed.”

Will couldn’t seem to get the air to respond other than to moan again. For a moment he was certain he was about to die, but then something shifted in Hannibal’s face, his eyes becoming oddly gentle. Their lips met in a chaste kiss before Hannibal pulled back and away. Darkness began to creep further into Will’s vision.

“We’ll meet again, Will Graham,” Hannibal said. “And when we do, we will possess each other.”


	9. Apple Orchard

The bark of the tree was rough and there was a chill in the air, but Will was barely conscious of either. When he’d suggested checking out the old apple orchard on the property this wasn’t what he’d had in mind.

Well, maybe he had, but he’d thought perhaps a walk, a picnic, maybe some wine first. He hadn’t expected Hannibal to press him back against the first old growth apple tree they came across. 

His clothes were on the ground and Hannibal’s head between his legs in what had to be record time; and instead of a rough tree and cold fall air, all he could feel was warmth spreading through his body. He moaned as his muscles tensed in anticipation, not caring that they were outdoors. 

The area was large enough and remote enough (and Hannibal’s private property, under one of many aliases) that it was unlikely anyone would hear. But that someone _might_ was incredibly arousing. He moaned again and leaned his head back against the tree trunk, his fists clutching at air before one of them settled in Hannibal’s hair, gripping tightly. 

Hannibal hummed against him before pulling away with a devious smile. Gripping Will’s hips he shifted him gently, Will taking the hint and turning to brace himself against the tree. Hannibal put one hand around Will’s waist, moving him into a better position as he leaned over his back.

“Have you ever been fucked against a tree, Will?” he asked. 

Will shook his head, though he was sure Hannibal knew full well the answer was no. 

“Do you want to be?” Hannibal was placing kisses along his back, trailing down toward his ass. 

“Yes,” Will managed, barely having spoken the word before Hannibal’s tongue was breaching him, gentle but insistent. Hannibal took his time, stretching Will leisurely despite the man’s clear impatience. Entering him with tantalizing slowness, Hannibal smiled at Will’s groan of “finally”. 

He leaned over to whisper in Will’s ear again. “What do you think of our orchard, Will?”

Will didn’t answer the question, but pushed his hips back. “Stop teasing and fuck me.”

“I think it’s quite lovely, don’t you?” Hannibal said. 

“Goddammit, Hannibal,” Will moaned in frustration. Chuckling, Hannibal obliged, picking up speed and shifting his angle. It wasn’t long before Will cried out, spilling over the fallen leaves, and Hannibal’s thrusts became more urgent as he chased his own completion. He came with a soft cry, allowing himself to fall momentarily over Will’s back, breath ghosting in the other man’s ear. 

They remained that way, allowing their breathing to calm, until Will shivered; the soft sheen of sweat that was coating him beginning to cool. Hannibal pulled away gently, running his hands down Will’s arms and feeling the goosebumps forming there. 

“You should get dressed,” Hannibal said. 

Will laughed, lightly. “I suppose that would be wise.” He turned to face Hannibal. “Did you bring a handkerchief or something?”

Hannibal gave him a pained expression, causing Will to laugh again. 

“Yes, I’m going to ruin it, but I think you’ll agree it’s a worthwhile sacrifice.” 

Sighing, Hannibal handed him the cloth. “I suppose I can’t disagree.” Will smiled and shook his head at the put upon look on Hannibal’s face, knowing full well he didn’t care about the handkerchief and only had it for the same reason he’d had lube in his pocket. 

Once they were both dressed Will reached for Hannibal’s hand. But instead of taking Will's hand in his own, Hannibal reached out to put an arm around Will’s waist and pull him close, placing a kiss on his temple. Will flushed slightly. Hannibal enjoyed the blush these small tender gestures elicited, despite their earlier intimacy. 

Will leaned his head against Hannibal’s shoulder. “This is a great orchard,” he said. “Maybe we can come back and pick apples sometime.” 

“This orchard hasn’t been well cared for in several years,” Hannibal said. “There are probably trees with fruit, but if you would like to go apple picking we might do better elsewhere.”

“Pity.” Will turned to place a kiss on Hannibal’s jaw. “If we pick apples elsewhere we’ll have to keep our clothes on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with this chapter I am caught up on prompts. Yay! Thank you to those of you reading, this has been really fun for me so far. I'm going to attempt to stick to a once a day update with this and see how well I do. :)


	10. Fake Blood

The party was in full swing when Hannibal arrived, and he made the obligatory polite but tedious conversation while searching the room for the reason he had agreed to come in the first place. He felt a surge of irritation when he couldn’t immediately locate what he was seeking. 

“Are you looking for Will?” Alana’s voice broke in on his thoughts and he turned to her, carefully schooling his face so as not to betray his surprise. It was unlike him to allow his mask to slip, but then Alana was rather perceptive. Not nearly the way Will was, or even Hannibal himself, but enough to make her interesting. 

“Yes,” Hannibal conceded. “He was concerned about the social aspect of this gathering.”

“And are you concerned about him as his therapist or his friend?” Alana asked, tilting her head slightly. 

“I’m not his therapist in any official capacity,” Hannibal reminded her. 

“Concern for a friend, then.” Alana’s smile was slightly smug and Hannibal found it incredibly distasteful. But that was an issue for another time, because Alana was pointing him to the corner of the room where a man stood, wearing a red velvet suit straight out of the 1970s. He turned slightly, and Hannibal could see his throat was covered in blood that had dripped down onto the ruffled shirt he wore under the suit jacket. 

If the smile on Will’s face was anything to go by, he appeared to be holding his own conversing with a woman Hannibal had never seen before. 

Hannibal felt several emotions which he quickly catalogued: surprise, jealousy, arousal. A mild hint of concern, which was a bit shocking. The blood was obviously fake and he had entertained ideas for Will’s death several times in the past. But he found that - confronted with the possibility of it, however contrived, and despite it being a costume - it was not even remotely satisfying. 

Nodding his thanks to Alana, who still wore that slightly smug smile, he made his way to Will.

Will seemed to sense him approaching and looked over, his smile broadening. “Doctor Lecter,” he said. 

“Will,” Hannibal responded with a smile of his own. He noted the slight shift in Will’s posture as his body angled away from the woman he’d been speaking to and toward Hannibal; an unconscious and almost unnoticeable shift, but one Hannibal was gratified to see. Warmth bloomed in his chest, a feeling that had been happening more often around Will. Hannibal hadn’t quite decided whether or not the feeling was welcome; but it continued to occur, welcome or not. 

Their eyes met and Will held the gaze briefly, before his eyes slipped away and he seemed to realize he should introduce Hannibal to the woman he’d been speaking with. The corners of Hannibal’s mouth twitched slightly as he noticed Will make the realization that he was being rude. Will’s frequent inability to act on, or at times seem to comprehend, social norms was somehow endearing. 

“I’m sorry,” he began, but stopped when he noticed the woman had left. “Thank goodness,” he said sighing. Hannibal allowed a smile and Will flushed with embarrassment, taking a sip of the drink he was holding. 

“I enjoy your costume,” Hannibal said, sensing Will needed a change of subject to feel at ease.

“Oh,” Will said, seemingly uncertain what to do with the compliment. “Beverly helped me. It was a thrift store find. I’m a zombie or something.” He shrugged. 

“You did an excellent job with the blood.” Hannibal said. “Most fake blood is too red or too thin.” 

“Yeah,” Will looked down at himself. “Chocolate sauce mixed with corn syrup and red food coloring.”

“I believe chocolate sauce was used for blood in black and white movies for it’s consistency,” Hannibal said. “It seems fake blood is often made of substances that are edible.”

“Well, no one wants to be poisoned by fake blood,” Will said, “so instead it’s always something non-toxic. You could just lick it right off if you wanted.” 

Hannibal allowed his thoughts to roam, envisioning the many ways he could do exactly what Will suggested, while simultaneously watching with delight as Will’s eyes widened, realizing the implications of his statement. 

Cheeks blazing, Will set down his glass with an almost inaudible “I think I’ve had enough.”

“Would you like to get out of here, Will?” Hannibal asked. “I think I’ve had quite enough of this party as well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrote another something occurring season 1ish that tried very hard to get away from me - I really wanted to keep writing but needed to post. Maybe I'll circle back to this at some point. Who knows? So many ideas, so little time! :)


	11. Scythe

In addition to the considerable amount of land, the property Hannibal had purchased included a small but well maintained home that he had promptly renovated, and a large shed that he had left untouched and that was falling into disrepair. 

Unsurprisingly, it was the shed that drew Will’s attention. It reminded him of the barn he had in Wolf Trap, which had also contained tools and items that the former owners of the property no longer wanted and had simply left behind when he bought it. 

They’d spent the first few weeks walking various parts of the property and taking full advantage of how secluded it was (his cheeks warmed when he thought about their visit to the old orchard a few days earlier). Today, however, Will was determined to investigate the shed. 

He felt a brief pang of longing when he opened the door and stepped inside, thinking back several years to his life before Jack walked into his classroom and asked to borrow his imagination. It had been so simple: classes, dogs, fishing, an unrealistic crush on a coworker. 

He felt rather than heard Hannibal appear behind him, the warmth and solidity of his presence banishing any regrets Will might have been entertaining.

“Anything interesting?” Hannibal asked. Will didn’t respond immediately, his eyes still adjusting to the dim light as he took inventory of the items he could see. It was an odd assortment of tools, many of them rusted beyond use, but there were some that appeared salvageable. His eyes came to rest on a pole with a long, thin, slightly curved blade attached to one end. 

“Is that what I think it is?” he asked, amused. 

“A scythe,” Hannibal nodded. 

Will moved forward to take it from its resting place against the wall and inspect it more closely. “It’s barely rusted,” he said. “Odd, considering the state of some of these other tools.” 

“I can’t imagine why it's here,” Hannibal said. “A scythe looks considerably more wicked than it is; it's of little to no use as a weapon. It’s only true use is harvesting wheat, which they don’t appear to have grown.”

Will smiled, eyes full of wicked mirth. “Or harvesting souls,” he said. He stood tall, posing with the scythe slightly in front of him. “What do you think? Some black robes, perhaps, and I can reap the souls of sinners?” He laughed.

“I would very much like to sketch you this way,” Hannibal said. 

“Gladly,” Will said, “but only if I get to reap you first.”

Hannibal’s smile matched the wicked glint in Will’s eyes. “I thought you wanted to go through this shed today?” 

Will shrugged, replacing the scythe. It could wait a while longer.


	12. Apple Picking

Will stretched to reach an apple near the top of the tree, the hem of his shirt riding up to expose a stretch of skin and a hint of his scar to the cool October air. The chill was almost immediately replaced with warmth as he felt Hannibal’s eyes track over his exposed skin, lingering on the beginnings of the scar. 

He smiled and stretched higher, though he didn’t need to, allowing a better view of his lean stomach and exposing more of the scar across his right side. He knew what he would see in Hannibal’s eyes if he looked down: ownership. He flushed at the thought.

He had kept the scar hidden around Molly as much as possible. Once, when their relationship and intimacy was new, she’d tried to trace it with her fingertips only to have him grab her wrist firmly and say “don’t.” She wouldn’t have described him as kind in that moment. He knew coldness had shown in his eyes, just as he knew she wrote it off as a painful period in his past that he didn’t want to discuss. Technically true; if only a small portion of a larger, darker truth. 

He was halfway up the tree and he climbed down carefully, making his way over to the basket Hannibal carried, prize in hand. He didn’t need to climb the trees, but opportunities to be silly and carefree had been few and far between. He felt buoyant, boyish almost. Placing the apple in the basket he leaned over it to give Hannibal a quick kiss. He felt Hannibal shift the basket slightly, reaching out to slide his fingers under Will’s shirt and trace the scar there. 

Hannibal’s fingertips grazed across it almost daily, a constant reminder of what he possessed. And Will found he was freer if he admitted to liking it, rather than flagellating himself because he shouldn’t. 

“I still wish we were apple picking in our own orchard,” he said. 

“Maybe next year,” Hannibal responded, tips of his fingertips still touching Will’s stomach. Will felt a small thrill at the suggestion that they could still be here next year. He liked the idea of permanence, but had been unwilling to entertain it as a possibility.

“I’m impressed that you found apple picking here at all, to be honest,” Will said, ignoring - trying to ignore - Hannibal’s fingertips trailing across his waist. His breath hitched as those long, beautiful fingers curled over the waistband of his pants and pulled gently before letting go. 

“There’s plenty of apple picking here,” Hannibal said. He looked slightly flushed, causing Will to feel a surge of pleasure. 

“I guess I thought the ‘pick your own’ concept was more of a US thing,” Will said. 

Hannibal’s lips quirked. “The 'pick your own' industry developed out of a lack of workers available to harvest crops. It’s not so dissimilar here.” 

“I suppose not. What are we going to do with all these apples anyway?” Will asked. He'd been caught up in the enjoyment of picking them - and the feel of Hannibal watching him pick them - and had gotten more than a little carried away.

“How do you feel about apple pie?” Hannibal asked. Will smiled and took his hand, already smelling baked apples and cinnamon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't my original intent to make any of these connect, but this, the Apple Orchard and the Scythe chapters all ended up existing in the same world in my head.


	13. Corn Maze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the first thing I've written (including several things I hope I can finish and post at some point) that is set during season 2.

When Will brought up the maize maze it was during one of their uncharacteristically frivolous conversations. He made a comment about having done a corn maze with his father when he was very young, said something about how one of the largest in the country was in Somerset. He'd thought about making the trip every year, but it was almost a two hour drive to wander through a cornfield. It was never something he had time for. 

But now, here he was, in Hannibal’s Bentley, driving down James Madison Highway on the way to wander through a cornfield. He wasn’t sure exactly how Hannibal had managed to talk him into this, or what _this_ even was. Hannibal called it “time away” from the stress of work. But he’d booked a hotel; they would be gone for the weekend. It was a weekend outing. 

It felt like something a couple would do, taking a mini vacation to do something silly together away from the pressures of every day life. It seemed like something Hannibal should be doing with Alana, Will thought bitterly. He stared out the window, the angry set of his jaw unmistakable. Hannibal glanced over, but for once did not force conversation. 

“Where was the maze you and your father visited?” Hannibal asked as they pulled into the parking lot. They’d barely spoken during the ride, but Will’s anger had ebbed away and it had been a comfortable silence. 

“I don’t remember,” Will said, voice far away as he replayed the memory, trying to discern a location. Finally he shrugged. “I was very young. I remember it being a good day with my father; I don’t have a lot of memories like that.”

Hannibal's eyes were soft, but there was no pity. He’d always appreciated that about Hannibal: there was never pity or judgement. Things simply were what they were. They were investigated, discussed, wondered about, but it was all for the sake of curiosity. Hannibal would never judge him; he always accepted him. The thought made Will’s chest tight and made him question his loyalties and his sanity for the hundredth, if not thousandth, time. 

“Shall we?” Hannibal asked. Will nodded. They purchased tickets - well, Hannibal purchased tickets, insisting it was his treat for a friend - and made their way into the mazes. There were four in total, each with a different concept. Three of them provided clues to the reach the exit, but the fourth had none and visitors to that maze had to make their way through with nothing more than their wits. 

Will had to admit he was having fun. He looked at Hannibal and grinned as they made their way out of the fourth maze, triumphant at last. As they exited he realized the sun was starting to set. 

“We’ve been here for 5 hours?” he said, incredulous. 

“Flashlight maze and then a late dinner?” Hannibal asked. 

Will looked at him, the surprise evident on his face. “You want to stay longer?” 

“Isn’t the flashlight maze ‘all the rage,’ as they say?” Hannibal responded, face betraying nothing, as usual. “Besides, we might as well experience all they have to offer.” 

Will couldn’t stop his smile. “If you say so, Doctor Lecter.” 

Hannibal gave a quick smile in return before leaving to purchase them tickets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I grew up in VA, and this is a real place. They change their mazes every year, and there are usually clues or pieces of trivia in 3 of them and then one that you just have to figure out. They advertise themselves as the largest corn maze east of the Mississippi. And it really is in Somerset VA.
> 
> Sadly, much like Will I was about 2 hours away and, because of time constraints, only went once and I kind of wish I'd made the effort to go more (I no longer live in VA and am much, much further away now, so 2 hours seems like nothing.)


	14. Dark Forest

Everyone avoided the north western section - the dark corner - of the forest. It was the oldest area and the trees there were broader and taller than the rest of the wood, their trunks were gnarled and black, and their leaves formed a thick canopy that seemed to block out the sun. That part of the forest was always dark and slightly damp, regardless of the weather or time of day. 

The trees seemed to form a definitive line, as though the dark corner had been marked somehow, and anyone crossing the threshold was met with a deep sense of foreboding. Even the bravest of men could not enter more than a few steps before they were compelled to turn around. 

It didn’t help that it was rumored to be the haunt of the wendigo, a monster who had once been a man; his name long forgotten to all but the oldest of the town’s residents. Those who knew the monster’s human name refused to speak it, but occasionally spoke of a tragedy that had befallen the creature’s family. 

Will Graham was intrigued. 

He had wandered into the town only a few days before in search of work. A herbologist by trade - he could speak to someone and divine what they needed to improve their health and well being in a way that was rumored to be magic - he was also quite handy at fixing things. Which was lucky, because his ability to read people inspired both awe and fear, and his medicinal services were largely avoided unless there seemed to be no other option. He had also found that his clients preferred him silent. And he didn't need to speak, beyond requesting very basic information, when making repairs around a home. 

The result was that Will rarely spoke to anyone.

It didn’t bother him. If he was being honest, he preferred silence to the constant chatter that others wanted to engage in. No one knew how to behave around him, and when he did speak with others he always found himself divining their secrets and being displeased by most of them. 

But he had spoken enough recently, sharing the odd ale with an old-timer at the pub, to discover the secret that no one was supposed to know and no one spoke of: the human name of the wendigo that haunted the dark forest. Hannibal Lecter. And while Will had yet to learn the full breadth of the tragedy, he knew it had to do with the younger Lecter sister, Mischa. She had died and somehow her death had spurred Hannibal’s transformation into a formidable beast. 

Will felt an odd kinship with this man-turned-monster. He understood loss. Though Will had no children of his own, he had cared for his niece Abigail for many years until she had died of the wasting disease. It had been a blow that, with all his knowledge of medicinal herbs, he had been powerless to stop it. He had taken to the road shortly thereafter. 

He considered Abigail as he crossed the line into the dark forest, her presence beside him still. Stepping forward, he felt as though a shroud had dropped behind him - or perhaps that the veil of the world had been lifted for him and he was now behind it. He felt anxious, but it was not an anxiety borne of fear. It was more hopeful, rather, an anxiousness that he may be given his wish to meet the feared wendigo that had once been called Hannibal. 

It was a wish granted with surprising speed. He was not more than fifty steps in when he saw red eyes appear out of the dim light filtering through the trees. Will stilled, awaiting the creature. It seemed to rise up out of the ground, somehow impossibly large and foreboding. Antlers rose from a head that still seemed mostly human, though the eyes of deep maroon would have imparted a sense of otherness on their own. 

The creature stood motionless. Will felt it was trying to get an impression of him, so he mirrored that stillness, barely breathing and willing himself not to blink. 

Finally, it spoke. “You are not afraid,” it said. 

“No,” Will responded. “I am curious.”

“About me?” the creature asked. 

“About who you were. About Hannibal Lecter.”

If the creature had been still before it became somehow impossibly more still, and the forest seemed to still around it. Will had not been conscious of a breeze before, but was suddenly very aware of the lack of movement in the air around him. 

“I have not heard that name in many years,” the wendigo said, scrutinizing Will with those inhuman eyes that contained an all-too-human glint of curiosity. “There is something about you, human. Something curious.”

Will huffed, the sound not quite a laugh. “So I’ve been told.”

“Come,” the wendigo said, turning and not bothering to see if Will followed. He did, though. Something compelled him forward after the creature, something he could not have fully explained but was helpless to guard against. As he walked deeper into the dark heart of the forest he felt a surprising sense of peace, with no desire to return to the society he had left only hours earlier.


	15. Curse

Hannibal arrived back from the market to an empty house. He wasn’t particularly surprised; he assumed Will was investigating the shed again. He’d been saying he wanted to get back to cataloguing the contents and determining what parts of the structure needed to be repaired. 

In Hannibal’s opinion the repairs would eventually result in an entirely new shed. It should probably be torn down and rebuilt all at once. He should probably hire someone and they could turn it into a workshop. But Will was excited about the project - as Hannibal had been aware he would be - and it was always good to have a project to occupy one's time. 

Neither of them were certain how much of it he would accomplish. No matter how much they wanted to stay, they both understood that this feeling of permanence was not necessarily permanent. After putting away the groceries Hannibal exited through the back door and immediately smelled burning sage. That was unexpected. 

He opened the door to the shed and saw Will, holding a smoldering bundle of dried sage leaves. Will turned to look at him, giving him a lopsided and slightly embarrassed smile. 

“I’m smudging. Apparently.” He answered Hannibal's unspoken question with a slight shrug. 

“Where did you get the sage?” Hannibal asked. He delighted in Will’s slight blush. His rosy cheeks were always a sight to behold. 

“Last time we were at the market together,” he said. “Remember I was talking to the gypsy woman? She gave it to me.” 

He brushed the hair back from his forehead. It had gotten longer and more unruly, but he hadn’t asked Hannibal to cut it. Hannibal hadn't - and wouldn't - offer to cut it. He rather enjoyed it this way; there was more of it to run his hands through. 

“And why are you smudging the shed?” Hannibal asked. 

“I’m trying to break a curse.” Will flushed a deeper shade of red. 

Hannibal regarded him with curiosity. “Surely you don’t believe in such things.”

Will sighed. “The scythe,” he said, which was not much of an explanation. He looked at Hannibal and ran his hand through his hair, mussing it further. “Let me show you something,” he said. 

He removed the scythe from it’s spot on the wall, placing it gently on the floor. “It’s the only tool without rust,” Will said quietly. 

Taking Hannibal by the hand, he led him out of the shed and closed the door behind them. Hannibal threaded his fingers through Will’s hand, gripping him tighter. 

Will tightened his hand in response and opened the door to the shed. Hannibal peered inside. Something was obviously upsetting Will, but it still took him a moment to see what it was. 

The scythe was once again hanging on the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And . . . I don't know. Some of these chapters are definitely better than others but this is the first prompt where I really felt like I was at a loss for ideas. But I am trying very hard to actually write one daily!


	16. Boo!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up being a continuation of chapter 13 - they are still at the corn maze.

The maze looked different with only the glow of a flashlight. It wasn’t surprising, but Will was frustrated that he didn’t remember it better. They were only a few turns in when Hannibal grinned at Will - a real smile with teeth, that made Will's stomach flip with a feeling he preferred not to identify - and turned off his flashlight. Sensing the challenge, Will followed suit. There was plenty of ambient light. 

They took several turns together, communicating mostly with glances and gestures, until Will heard a noise and turned to look behind them. There was nothing and no one obvious there so he stilled, listening, until heard it again: whispering from the other side of the corn and the faint shine of a flashlight peaking through. Another group must be catching up to them. 

He turned back to Hannibal, who had, of course, disappeared. “Hannibal?” he called, softly. He peeked around the corner and, seeing nothing, sighed. Hannibal either hadn’t realized Will had stopped or had intentionally kept moving. Although he still didn’t feel a strong need for the flashlight he pulled it from his pocket and clicked it on. Nothing happened. 

Loose battery, perhaps? Will wondered. As he was examining the flashlight he became aware of a presence behind him. He turned quickly. 

“Boo!” Hannibal said. It was probably meant to be funny, but Will was moving too quickly to be amused or to stop his momentum. He practically fell into Hannibal, catching his foot between the other man’s feet and tangling them together unsteadily. Hannibal tried to catch them but couldn’t. 

They fell gracelessly to the ground, Will hitting the ground with a sharp exhalation of breath and Hannibal somehow on top of him. An errant strand of Hannibal’s normally immaculate hair fell across his forehead making him impossibly more attractive. Will loved seeing him slightly mussed; a break in that facade of calm. 

Their eyes met and for a brief moment Will was certain Hannibal was going to kiss him. He was also confident in how much he wanted Hannibal to kiss him, and he wondered what it would be like to allow himself what he truly wanted. To stop thinking about actions and consequences and what he should be doing and simply let go. 

Hannibal’s smile was more of a smirk, and Will was certain he knew exactly what he was thinking. He closed his eyes and tried to still his breathing.

“Hannibal,“ he said, prepared to roll over so that Hannibal would no longer be on top of him, prepared to ask if Hannibal was ok and could get up, prepared to dust himself off and ignore the fact that he was half hard and full of want. He was not prepared for what he saw when he opened his eyes.

Maybe because Will’s eyes were closed briefly Hannibal had allowed the mask to slip. Or maybe he wanted Will to see. But when Will opened his eyes and looked into Hannibal's what he saw was undisguised lust. It was a heady feeling, and he was certain no one had ever looked at him that way in his life - never with so much force and desire. 

The heat of it enveloped him and he was dizzy with the sheer force of Hannibal’s want. And if he had been half hard before, his arousal was now fully apparent, no longer something he could attribute as a purely physiological response to surprise and adrenaline. 

Will stared at the other man, his chest tight, breathing short and shallow. He suppressed the urge to start rutting against him like a horny teenager, but his hips seemed to move of their own volition and he bit his lip to stifle a moan. 

“Hannibal,” he said again, but it sounded breathless and far more like an invitation than he intended. Hannibal placed his hand over Will’s mouth and shifted his hips slightly. Will choked off another moan. 

As Hannibal moved again, still a subtle movement but with clear intent, guilt and shame warred with want and Will wasn’t sure if he wanted to tell Hannibal to stop immediately or to beg him to never, never stop. So instead he said nothing, merely bit down on his cheek so stop himself from crying out.

“Is this the reaction I’ll get every time I startle you, Will?” Hannibal also sounded slightly breathless. His erection was pushing into Will’s thigh and Will was silently grateful he wasn’t the only one affected. 

Hannibal removed his hand and Will licked his lips to wet them before speaking, but Hannibal didn’t wait for his response, pressing their lips together as Will moaned quietly yet again. He felt undone - he was not normally this vocal. Just then, they both heard a noise and saw the beam of a flashlight coming around the corner. Hannibal rolled away with the speed and agility of a cat, sitting up and reaching his hand out to Will. 

As a couple came around the corner, their flashlight fell across Will’s face and torso. He knew the couple was taking in his disheveled appearance as well as Hannibal sitting next to him, reaching out a hand. A hand Will took, as he allowed Hannibal to pull him into a sitting position. 

“Is everything ok here?” the girl asked.

Hannibal, smooth as ever, chuckled lightly and said “Yes, quite alright. I’m afraid our flashlight died and somehow in the dark my companion and I took a bit of a tumble.”

“Do you need a spare flashlight?” 

Shaking his head, Hannibal picked up the flashlight Will had dropped and knocked it against one hand, forcefully. It came on. 

“Loose batteries,” he said. “But we will be fine. Please continue with your evening. We don't want to tie you up.” 

It was impressive, the way Hannibal could make a command appear politely imploring. Will looked at them and nodded, driving home the point. The woman nodded in response and the couple moved on. 

As soon as they were gone Hannibal stood, looking frustratingly composed, and held his hand out to Will again. And again Will took it and allowed Hannibal to pull him up so he was standing. As soon as he was upright Hannibal pressed their lips together, quickly, before pulling away again. 

“I believe it’s this way,” he said, his fingers encircling Will’s wrist and pulling slightly. Will stared at him, uncertain for a moment how to proceed before his feet began moving and he allowed himself to be led. Against all his knowledge and better judgment, he wanted Hannibal to kiss him again. In fact he wanted considerably more than that. And as Hannibal pulled him through the maze with what seemed to be a singular purpose, he wondered if he might get his wish after all.


	17. Candles

Will was sitting cross legged in his boxers in the middle of the spare bedroom, several lit jar candles sitting in front of him. Hannibal stood in the doorway, his expression inquisitive. 

“All Saint’s Day is a public holiday here,” Will commented. “I was reading about the origins.”

“Samhain,” Hannibal said. “The end of harvest season and the beginning of winter. It was one of four Gaelic festivals marking the passing of the seasons. As Christianity began to take hold they renamed it All Saint’s Day.” 

He might have continued, but Will’s laugh interrupted him. “You sound like you’re lecturing.” He gestured to the space next to him. “Come sit.” 

Hannibal stood slightly taller before moving to Will’s side and taking a seat. 

“I read that as a modern day celebration people will light candles to let go of the past and set a goal for the future,” Will said. “Of course, what I read suggested one candle for letting go and one candle for setting goals or direction.” 

He reached for one of the jars and blew out the candle, passing it to Hannibal. “But I liked the duality of releasing the past and embracing the future with the same candle.”

Hannibal considered the candle carefully before turning to Will and gently pushing him, encouraging him to lie on his back. “You should be fully nude,” Hannibal said. His matter of fact tone earn a smirk from Will who wriggled out of his boxers, tossing them far from the flames. 

Will’s heart was hammering with anticipation, and Hannibal placed a surprisingly gentle hand against his chest. “You’re sure this is what you want?” 

“Yes.” There were things Hannibal would only do with Will’s express permission - an odd feeling after all the things he had previously done very much _without_ permission - but once that permission was granted he wasted no time. Without preamble or warning he poured wax over Will’s left nipple. 

Will hissed with the sudden intensity of it. Hannibal never pulled any punches; always hitting sensitive areas first. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, exactly, but the sudden heat of it drew all of his attention to the source of the sensation, his nipple taut with pleasure and his mind tracing the drips sliding down his side and toward his arm pit. 

The rest of his body seemed to fade away as Hannibal bent over him and gently blew across the cooling wax. Will licked his lips, managing a guttural sound of appreciation and earning a smile in return. 

Swirling the jar slightly, Hannibal moved to the center of Will’s chest, and began to drip the wax slowly, trailing a line down to his belly button. Will’s breath hitched, his awareness following the trail of heat down his chest and toward his groin. 

“Wait,” he said. Turning on his side he reached for a different candle, enjoying the slight pulls on his skin where the wax was already cooling as he moved.

“Paraffin burns hotter than soy,” Hannibal said, looking at the candle as Will handed it to him. “This one will likely hurt slightly and will take longer to cool. You’re sure?” 

Will nodded. He took Hannibal’s hand again, wordlessly guiding the other man to pour in a line mirroring his scar. As the wax hit his skin he watched surprise, pleasure and arousal flicker across Hannibal’s face. The slight burn from the paraffin candle was a wholly different sensation than a cold knife slicing into him, but Will’s mind was focused on the tenderness Hannibal displayed then as well as now. Letting go of the past wasn’t about forgetting, but claiming and reframing it. 

His breath hitched and he rolled his hips as the burning sensation traveled across his stomach. Hannibal set the candle aside and began to trace a pattern in the wax on Will’s stomach while it was still warm. It might have been a word, but Will wasn’t sure and he didn’t need to know. The mingling feelings of heat, the slick of the cooling wax and the touch of Hannibal’s fingers moving through it and across his skin were nearly overwhelming. 

Will made a strangled sound as Hannibal’s wax-coasted fingers traveled lightly across his thigh and balls, before grabbing his achingly hard cock and stroking slowly. 

“Oh yes, thank you,” Will said, managing to form words, though he wasn’t entirely sure what he was saying ‘thank you’ for - all of it, probably. Everything that had brought them here, and everything Hannibal was doing to him now. Hannibal grinned and increased his speed, sending Will rushing over the precipice of orgasm. 

Panting, Will propped himself up on his elbows. “I’m a mess and you’re still fully dressed,” he said to Hannibal with a groan. He reached out, unsure of his exact intent but with a vaguely formed idea of reciprocation. Hannibal merely threaded his fingers between Will’s and squeezed, a slight movement of his head indicating nothing else need happen between them at the moment. 

“Were you able to let go of the past and visualize your future?” Hannibal asked. 

“I may need to repeat this ritual,” Will said coyly, “but I’m working on it.”


	18. Jack O'lantern

Will surveyed the mess of pumpkin and seeds overflowing the mixing bowl he borrowed (or absconded with, according to Hannibal) from the kitchen.

What had begun as a harmless desire to carve a traditional Halloween pumpkin - triangle eyes and a toothy grin - had quickly escalated to competition to see who could create the most intricate design. They’d spent the last five hours carving and their efforts had required no less than two additional visits to purchase more pumpkins, earning confused looks from the sales people.

With experience cooking and butchering, Hannibal was a master with a knife. He peeled away layers of pumpkin without completely piercing it - more like an etching on the skin of the squash - to create shadow and nuance. Will was impressed, but his own knife skills were not insignificant and he was rather proud of the stag design he was currently completing. 

Hannibal had rolled his sleeves up, exposing his forearms, and Will watched the muscles work beneath the skin for a few minutes. He considered the number of times he’d watched Hannibal wield a knife; in a variety of settings and with varying intents. Watching him work was always mesmerizing. There was a certain elegance and fluidity to it, as though the knife were an extension of him instead of simply a tool. 

“You know the idea to carve pumpkins was brought to the new world by the Irish,” Hannibal said, with the tone of someone about to begin a history lesson. Will smiled. 

“I understand the original Jack O’lanterns were actually carved out turnips,” Will said. “To keep evil spirits away.”

Hannibal grinned. Will was quite well read and well informed, but at times his knowledge of obscure subjects still surprised Hannibal - who was always pleased to be surprised. 

“There were no pumpkins in Ireland at the time,” Hannibal said. Changing the subject, he asked, “Did you carve pumpkins every year?” 

Will shook his head. “I didn’t always have the time or inclination.” He tossed another small piece of pumpkin into the bowl. “Plus I lived in the middle of nowhere, so I never got trick or treaters. Not that I was usually home on Halloween.” 

He shrugged. And then, looking at Hannibal’s pumpkin, “Is that my face?”

Hannibal turned it toward him. “I believe it’s an excellent likeness, don’t you?” 

“You carved my face into a jack o’lantern,” Will said, eyes darting between the pumpkin and Hannibal’s pleased expression. “I’m honestly not sure how to feel about that.” 

“Nonsense,” Hannibal said. “It’s a thing of beauty.” He leaned over to run his hand through Will’s hair, pulling him in for a tender kiss. As Hannibal pulled away he held up a pumpkin seed, laughing, and tossed it into the bowl. 

“How did that get there?” Will asked, closing the distance between them for another kiss. “I think I’ll cook the seeds,” he said. “I did the few times I carved pumpkins in Wolf Trap. The dogs would usually eat the pumpkin.” Hannibal caught the wistfulness in the last line. 

“I can make pie,” Hannibal suggested. 

“You’re making an awful lot of pies recently,” Will laughed, thinking of the apple pies sitting in their freezer.

Later, when the house smelled of warm pumpkin, pumpkins seeds, butter and a variety of spices - Will identified cinnamon, ginger, and clove - they placed their carved pumpkins along the drive and lit them. Taking a few moments to appreciate their work, Hannibal put his arm around Will and Will leaned in, sipping rum mixed with warm apple cider. 

Directly in front of the door sat two carved out turnips inset with tea lights and the pumpkin with Will’s face on it. It was a surprisingly accurate representation, and the light flickering behind it imparted a peculiar kind of beauty. 

“Ok. I like the pumpkin” Will said, ducking his head into Hannibal’s shoulder and feeling the pleased chuckle rumble through his partner’s chest.


	19. Bonfire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up much softer and more introspective than originally intended, but I'm going with it.

The fire was burning warm and bright and Hannibal watched the tendrils of smoke curling into the night air. The hissing and popping of the wood and the crackling of the flames created their own music, the notes scattering into the air around him like the embers loosed and fading into the night. Fires inspire quiet contemplation and contentment; it was one of the reasons he’d frequently lit them in his home in Baltimore. 

A soft shift next to him drew his attention. His current sense of contentment had less to do with the small bonfire they’d decided to build in their yard and more to do with the man sitting next to him, currently hunched over and intently focused on the marshmallow he was roasting. 

Hannibal smiled to himself. When Will found the marshmallows he had happily declared that they were making s’mores. The ingredients weren’t quite the same as they would have been in the States, of course. The marshmallows were a slightly different consistency, so Will had been perfecting the roasting as he went. The graham crackers were, according to Will, only a passable substitute. (Hannibal privately felt that meant these graham crackers were far superior in quality, but graham crackers were not something he’d ever eaten when he lived in Baltimore.) The chocolate was gourmet. 

Correctly assuming that he would be coerced into eating the s’mores Will would clearly not be dissuaded from making, Hannibal insisted on the highest quality chocolate. The result was edible. Perhaps even enjoyable - if not for the s’mores themselves, for the opportunity they presented to suck melted chocolate from Will’s fingers and watch his pupils dilate and his heart rate increase. 

Will made a pleased noise as he pulled his current marshmallow from the fire and turned to grin at Hannibal. That smile had been a rare gift when they first met, but despite the recent increase in frequency Hannibal still found warmth blooming in his chest each time he saw it. 

“I think I have this figured out now,” Will said, offering Hannibal his most recent creation. Hannibal politely declined, to Will’s apparent amusement. He merely placed another marshmallow on the stick and perched it above the fire. “Now that I know the trick, I have to make at least one more. Which you will eat.” He looked at Hannibal pointedly, and Hannibal flashed him a toothy grin. 

“In Lithuania we lit bonfires to celebrate Rasos,” he said. “It’s an entirely different time of year, of course, at midsummer. The pagan tradition included searching for a special blooming fern in the forest. My mother and I searched one year when I was very young. There were no s'mores.” He added this last part as an afterthought and stared into the fire, reluctant to look at Will, already aware of the intensity of the other man's focus. It was the same any time Hannibal shared pieces of his childhood. 

“Perhaps we could see it sometime.” Will’s tone was carefully neutral, but there was a hopefulness behind it. That Will was so curious about his past was surprising to Hannibal because he himself was not. He had shut it away long ago, but he found himself sharing bits and pieces of it because Will wanted to _know_ , and the force of that curiosity was almost palpable. 

He had no desire to return to Lithuania. If memories were ghosts, then it was a haunted place. 

“What about Guy Fawkes Day instead?” Hannibal suggested. “Much more fun and pagentry. And fireworks.” 

“Is the UK safe for us?” Will asked. 

“Perhaps not this year, but maybe in the future." Will had allowed him the change in subject, but Hannibal knew the suggestion of visiting his birthplace would come up again. Rather than feel angry he found himself wondering if he might manage it someday - for Will. 

He accepted the final s’more of the evening with grace and was fairly certain he managed not to pull a face when he bit into it. Wrapping his other arm around Will to pull him close he breathed deeply; the sensations of warmth from the fire and warmth at his side merging together and allowing him an easy, if temporary, peace.


	20. Full Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A longer than anticipated, smutty continuation of chapter 16.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [DaringD](/users/DaringD/) \- thank you for your comment on ch 16. Honestly, I might not have come back to this but once you said you hoped Will got his wish I started wondering if any of the prompts would lead me back. And now there is this. Hopefully it lives up to expectations!

They exited the maze in what had to be record time: Hannibal hadn’t faltered on the path to choose once. Will had a good memory himself, but he had to admit he was impressed. Hannibal’s grip on his wrist hadn’t changed either - it was firm but gentle as he led Will steadily back toward the car. 

“We should check into our hotel first,” Hannibal said, finally releasing Will’s wrist to open the car doors. The words were innocent, the tone was neutral, but the potential, the promise was there in the undercurrent. Will nodded, eyes meeting Hannibal’s for a moment over the roof of the car before they both stepped in. 

Will glanced out the window as they drove away. The sky was free of clouds and he was briefly surprised to discover it was a full moon. Perhaps that was to blame. People did strange things under full moons, after all. 

Check in was a quick affair - Will waited in the car while Hannibal got the key cards - and soon he was being ushered into their room. They’d discussed accommodations before leaving and Will had suggested they book a double room rather than two. He used to know his own mind so well, but now he found himself wondering if he’d secretly hoped for this. He hadn’t left himself with an exit strategy - other than sleeping in the car, maybe. _Hannibal’s car._

Hannibal set his overnight bag next to one of the beds while Will did the same. Now that they were here, they both seemed to be at a loss. Nothing needed to happen. They were two friends, sharing a room. They could enjoy dinner together the way close friends do, sleep in separate beds, and drive home in the morning. Hannibal would drop him off in Wolf Trap and continue to Baltimore. 

Will could feel the moment slipping away, and the smart thing would be to let it. But Will didn’t want to do the smart thing. Maybe it _was_ the affect of the full moon, making him do something crazy after all. 

The kiss was enthusiastic but poorly executed, mostly teeth and noses knocking together. He might have been embarrassed, but Hannibal grabbed him and pushed him onto the bed before climbing over him and giving him a proper kiss, tongue pressing into his mouth with such force and wantonness that Will could already feel his toes curling. 

Will arched his back slightly and panted, “God, Hannibal.” 

Hannibal smiled at that, looking devilish and perhaps the tiniest bit cruel; something Will knew that, rationally, he should not find as arousing as he did. 

Hannibal’s hands were under his shirt, warm against his skin, and he sat up to help remove the t-shirt and sweater he was wearing. Hannibal was wearing a button down shirt (of course) and Will smiled as he worked his way down, biting his lower lip as he undid the final button and pulled the shirt back to expose the man’s bare chest. 

Grinning, Will ran his hands across Hannibal’s exposed skin, gripping the chest hair and pulling slightly, in awe of Hannibal but also in awe of himself and his sudden audacity. He leaned forward and nipped one of Hannibal’s nipples lightly, before flicking his tongue over it quickly and earning a pleased moan that went straight to his cock. 

Impatient, Will grabbed Hannibal’s belt and undid the buckle; but Hannibal stopped him and pushed him back down on the bed. As Hannibal kissed his neck, Will felt his own belt buckle being undone and lifted his hips to allow Hannibal to pull his pants down. 

Suddenly Hannibal was off the bed, down at his feet, and Will laughed, throwing an arm over his eyes. “I can’t believe I didn’t even take off my shoes,” Will said. 

“Don’t be concerned,” Hannibal said. “I’m pleased to do this for you.” Something in his tone told Will he was completely serious, and Will removed the arm from his eyes and lifted his head, propping himself up on his elbows. 

He watched as Hannibal gently, almost reverently, removed Will’s shoes and socks, setting them carefully to the side, before standing to finish removing Wills pants - which he folded and placed on the desk behind him. Will grinned, causing Hannibal to tilt his head slightly, the question apparent. 

“It’s nothing,” Will said. “It’s just you - fastidious, even when you’re about to have sex.”

Hannibal grinned and removed his pants and boxers, folding them next to Will’s. _Fuck,_ Will thought, as Hannibal stood before him completely naked. _Fuck, fuck, fuck,_ he thought as Hannibal crawled back onto the bed to straddle him. Then Hannibal’s lips were on him again, sucking at the pulse point just below his jaw, and Will couldn’t stop the low guttural moan that seemed to start in his stomach and vibrate through his chest before releasing through his lips. 

Lining himself up with Will, Hannibal grabbed both their cocks and began to stroke. 

“Oh fuck,” Will moaned, and Hannibal kissed him again, deep and slow as Will muttered things he didn’t understand into Hannibal’s mouth, worried that he had already lost his ability to voice coherent thoughts. 

“Will,” Hannibal said, gently, kissing down Will’s jaw and continuing to stroke them leisurely, “have you ever been with a man before?” 

Will groaned. “Way to kill the mood.” Hannibal chuckled lightly. Sensing the other man was still waiting for answer, Will asked, defiant, “does it matter?”

“It might matter in terms of what we do tonight,” Hannibal said, “how far this goes.” 

Hannibal’s hand shifted slightly, still stroking, and Will’s awareness moved back to his groin. The man’s ability to split his focus was truly impressive. 

“No,” Will huffed, “But I’m not concerned about it and I want this.” He paused. “I want you to fuck me.” He flushed slightly, watching Hannibal’s eyes roam over his body possessively. Hannibal nodded and backed down from the bed once more. Will moaned at the sudden loss. Hannibal merely grinned, pulling a small tube out of a kit in his overnight bag. 

“You brought lube?” Will asked. 

“Surgical lube,” Hannibal said. “I keep it in my emergency kit.” 

Placing it on the bedside table for easy access, Hannibal once again climbed over Will. This time his lips traveled lower and Will gasped as they closed over his cock, wrapping it in wet heat and sucking. Hard. 

“Oh,” was all Will could say as he gripped the bedspread, balls tightening with need, stomach muscles twitching. He was close. Too close. “Hannibal, I -“ he said, throwing his head back. 

Instead of backing off, his imminent orgasm seemed to spur Hannibal on; his speed and intensity increased and he took Will deeper, allowing his teeth to gently graze along WIll’s length as he drew back up. 

“Hannibal,” Will panted, the warning clear. Hannibal hummed, an encouraging, almost amused sound, and that was it - Will arched his back, thrusting up into Hannibal’s mouth and throat as stars burst behind his eyes, a loud cry escaping his lips. 

Hannibal continued to suck gently on Will’s cock as it softened, before moving down to nuzzle Will’s balls. 

“Hannibal,” Will said again, wanting to offer something but unsure what it might be. Hannibal merely chuckled again and pulled one of Will’s balls into to his mouth, sucking intently before repeating his motions with the other and then pulling both into his mouth, swirling his tongue around them and tugging gently. 

It felt amazing, and though it would be some time before Will could get hard again he could already feel his body trying. Placing a kiss below his balls, Hannibal said “put a pillow under your hips.” Will grabbed a pillow and complied. Hannibal kissed beneath his balls again, moving down to his ass and kissing gently before running his tongue around the rim of Will’s entrance. Will gasped as the tip of Hannibal’s tongue breached the rim of muscle, sending thrills of pleasure pulsing through him. One of his college girlfriends - if you could call her that - had tried this with him, but it had been nothing like what he was feeling now, every nerve ending raw and alight. 

“Oh my god,” he cried as Hannibal’s tongue pushed deeper into him. Hannibal reached for the lube and, smearing a bit across his fingers, paused to look at Will. Panting and flushed Will looked at him and nodded, once again understanding the question without Hannibal voicing it. He was sure. 

Hannibal placed a gentle hand on Will’s stomach. “Try to relax,” he said. “This will feel strange and then it will feel good. If we take our time, there shouldn’t be any pain.” Will nodded. 

Running his fingers across Will’s hole, Hannibal pressed the tip of one finger in, gently. Will tensed at the intrusion, sitting up slightly, but Hannibal gently pushed him back, leaving one hand on Will’s stomach. 

“Relax,” Hannibal said, placing a kiss against Will’s thigh. “Breathe.” 

Will did, and Hannibal could feel the muscles relaxing around him. He pushed in deeper and Will’s breath hitched. Thrusting his finger in and out very slightly, he felt Will’s muscles relax more and added a second finger. Will tensed again and Hannibal chuckled. 

“Relax, Will,” he said again. Will nodded. Once again, Hannibal moved slowly, gentle thrusts in and out before curling his fingers slightly to brush against Will’s prostate. Pleasure exploded along Will’s spine, his breathing harsh.

“Was that - oh my god,” Will said. Hannibal thrust his fingers a few more times before brushing against Will’s prostate again. 

Shifting his hips against Hannibal’s fingers, Will moaned. “More.” 

Hannibal obliged, adding a third finger and increasing the speed of his thrusts, until he was fucking Will with his fingers and Will was starting to get hard again. Removing his fingers, Hannibal spread lube over his cock and Will shifted his hips in encouragement. As Hannibal lined up and began to press into him, Will cried out in surprise. 

Hannibal’s fingers had stretched him, but he still hadn’t been quite prepared for the feeling of another man’s cock inside of him. He breathed harshly, trying to relax against the feeling of intrusion. Hannibal paused, having only barely pressed in, to allow Will time to relax. 

“If you want to stop, Will, we can stop at any point,” he said softly. A part of Will’s brain registered a faint surprise at the gentleness and sincerity of the words. 

“I don’t want to stop,” Will said through gritted teeth. Hannibal leaned down and kissed him. 

“Then relax, and breath,” he said. Once again, Will did, and Hannibal pressed in further. This time Will relaxed more immediately, allowing Hannibal fully inside of him. It was like nothing Will had ever experienced before. Then Hannibal began to move. Slowly at first, but faster and harder as Will began to relax and accept him. 

He shifted, pressing against Will’s prostate with each thrust. Will keened in response, his cock hard again and leaking onto his stomach. Realizing he’d closed his eyes and thrown his head back, he opened them to look at Hannibal. Hannibal's mask had dropped - or mostly dropped - and he pushed into Will with fervor and rough intent. Will lifted his hips slightly, pushing back to meet Hannibal’s thrusts. He took in Hannibal’s parted lips, the hair falling across his forehead and the sheen of sweat across his body. _Me,_ Will thought. _I did this, this is because of me._ He felt powerful and possessive. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, before he could stop himself. He felt silly for voicing the thought, but Hannibal’s pupils became larger still and his thrusts more erratic. Watching Hannibal chase his orgasm, Will felt his own rising and suddenly he was coming, untouched, across his stomach and chest. 

“Will,” Hannibal said, not a scream or a cry but a gentle, erotic release of air around the sound of Will’s name. Will could feel Hannibal pulsing inside him. Hannibal rested his forehead against Will’s both of them panting for air, before pressing their lips together as he was simultaneously pulling out. Will grunted into Hannibal’s mouth. 

“I’ll get a towel,” Hannibal said. After they were clean, they moved to the unused bed by mutual agreement. Hannibal fell asleep almost immediately, much to Will’s surprise. Moving slowly, so as not to wake the other man, Will climbed softly out of the bed and over to the window. He pulled the shade apart and allowed the light of the full moon into the room, bathing Hannibal in a silvery glow in the bed. The full moon made people do strange things. 

Will wondered if this would happen again, or if it was a one-time thing. He wondered how it changed things between them. He decided that, at least for tonight, it didn’t matter. He climbed back into bed and back into Hannibal’s arms. 

Several hours later, Will opened his eyes. Grinning, he concentrated on the feeling of the arm hung possessively around his waist and the ache in his ass and lower back. He was aware on some level that last night had probably been a mistake, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Turning, he brushed his nose up against Hannibal’s, their eyes meeting. Hannibal smiled and pressed a kiss to his lips. 

“Tell Jack you’re sick,” Hannibal said. 

“What?” Will pulled back, surprised. 

“Let’s stay here,” Hannibal said, pressing their lips together again and then pressing kisses along his jaw. “I’ll book the room again. I didn't get to take you to dinner last night, and I would very much like another night with you.”

Will couldn’t stop his grin. “OK,” he said, picking up the phone.


	21. Bones

They were walking through the tree when Will first spotted the bones. It had been raining recently, the ground still damp. The water had washed some of the dirt away to reveal the white of the skull. Will bent down to investigate, brushing away some of the dirt. 

“It’s not human,” Hannibal said, looking over Will’s shoulder. 

“Clearly,” Will said dryly. “Disappointed?”

“No,” Hannibal said. “I would hate to think we had competition.” 

Will laughed at that, brushing away some more dirt. “Dog, you think?” he asked quietly. 

“It’s the right shape and size for a variety of shepherd,” Hannibal agreed, watching Will’s face closely. He didn’t appear upset to have found the skull, but Hannibal could feel Will’s quiet sadness over the loss of his pack. 

He wrapped an arm around Will’s waist, his chin settling on Will’s shoulder. “We can get a dog, if you would like,” he said. 

Will shook his head, though his face changed minutely and Hannibal could tell he was pleased at the suggestion. “Too risky,” he said. “We don’t know how long we’ll be here.” 

Hannibal hummed in acknowledgement. He enjoyed the property and hoped to be there for some time, but they were still getting settled and the potential longevity remained to be seen. 

Will turned his head to kiss the corner of Hannibal’s mouth gently. “Thank you,” he said. He brushed some more dirt away, hitting something hard and pulling it free. It was impossible to read, but was clearly the metal tag from a dog’s collar. 

Placing it back down by the skull, Will began to move direct to cover the bones again. Hannibal reached out to help, and Will cast him a surprised but grateful glance. Once the bones were covered, Will picked up two sticks and placed an “x” to mark the grave. 

As Will stood Hannibal grabbed him and pulled him close, placing a kiss on his forehead. “You will have one again,” he said. 

Will smiled. The promise was there, even if Hannibal hadn’t said it. And Hannibal always kept his promises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm writing silly nonsense today. Hopefully this is "cute" lol. I tossed around a lot of ideas for this prompt but none of them really caught me.


	22. Falling Leaves

Hannibal stands on the porch and watches as Will emerges from the woods with his dogs. The wind rustles through the trees, leaves falling over them and trailing softly to the ground. One of them lands in Will’s hair, seemingly unnoticed. Will pauses to stare at Hannibal, his gaze intense and direct. He probably feels safe to look with intent from the distance, too far away for actual eye contact. 

“Did I miss a session?” he asks wryly as he steps onto the porch, knowing he did not. Hannibal catches the ghost of a smile on his lips, noting with pleasure that Will seems pleased to see him. 

“This is a friendly visit,” Hannibal says. “I wanted to see how you were doing.” 

“Ah,” Will considers him, gaze landing somewhere around his nose. “But I work for the FBI. This sort of thing happens. Shouldn’t I be checking on you?”

“Friends check on each other,” Hannibal counters. He itches to reach out and pull the unnoticed leaf from Will’s hair. 

“Probably why I’m a poor friend to have,” Will says with an edge to his voice. “I haven’t been to Baltimore to check on you, and you were attacked in your office.” After a pause he continues, with quiet sincerity, “I have been worried though. How are you?”

“I’m managing,” Hannibal mimics Will’s tone. 

“As am I.” Will tilts his head slightly. “As well as I ever do, I suppose.” He meets Hannibal’s eyes briefly before his gaze once again flits away. He seems to be considering something.

Then, reaching for the door he says, shyly, “Well Doctor, you drove all the way here to check on me. The least I can do is offer you dinner.” As he motions for Hannibal to come inside, Hannibal notices the slight flush to Will's cheeks. From his walk with the dogs, no doubt. 

**

They walk through the park toward Jack’s rumbling voice as the wind blows, chilling the air and sending a few final leaves that had been clinging stubbornly to the trees past them. Will huddles more deeply into his jacket and Hannibal has a sudden desire to pull him closer to warm him. It is still fall, but the air carries the promise of frost. Will needs to dress more warmly.

Hannibal does reach out to touch him, cautiously, on the forearm. Will has shared more with him lately but he’s still uncertain about how much touch is acceptable. Will stills and Hannibal can feel the muscles move under his hand even through the shirt and jacket, tension coiling and then releasing. 

Will turns to look at him, meeting his eyes with no hesitation. Each time Hannibal is gifted with this directness he finds himself once again astonished at how remarkably blue Will’s eyes are, containing a hidden darkness and burning with an intensity he can feel traveling down to the base of his spine. 

“I believe I have a warmer jacket in my car,” Hannibal says. Will hunches further into his jacket and shakes his head.

“We won’t be here long, I’ll be fine,” he says. Hannibal looks at him with fond exasperation. Will always hopes to arrive and leave quickly, but there is no telling how long they might be there. Jack has certain _expectations_ of his prized profiler - expectations Hannibal finds tedious - and the young man’s cheeks are already pinched and rosy from the cold. 

“At least take this,” he says, removing his scarf and wrapping it tightly around Will’s neck, registering the slight inhalation of breath, a hint of embarrassment, and, ultimately, gratitude. Hannibal flips his own collar up against the cold and gestures for them to continue toward the crime scene. “Shall we?”

**

Will is unconscious in his arms. The young man's build may be slight, but he is still dead weight and Hannibal’s chest and arms are burning from the exertion. He ignores it. They escaped the Verger Estate, Hannibal heading across the fields to find and borrow a car, and now he is focused on getting Will inside his home and settled. From the trees beside them there is a crashing sound of snow and leaves falling to the ground, and the sound seems to stir the man in his arms. 

“Hannibal,” he moans, and Hannibal’s heart is caught in an all too familiar vice as heat coils low in his stomach. He has imagined hearing that noise so many times, but in wholly different settings. He keeps these fantasies close to him, selfishly, understanding how unrealistic they are. He was always carefully removed in the past, his feelings set aside for later examination, his worldview clinical and fact based. But his trip to Florence has taught him he is far too human, at least when it comes to Will Graham, and the impossible longing remains an unwelcome visitor in his chest. 

“I’m here,” he says, as he carries Will into the house and lays him gently in his bed. He is once again unconscious and Hannibal settles down to watch over him finding solace, for now, in the steady rise and fall of Will’s chest. 

**

Hannibal dwells in his memory palace. He thinks back to the time he appeared on Will’s porch after the incident with Tobias, telling Will he was there to check on him and telling himself he was learning more about this peculiar and intriguing young man to further gain his trust. He admits to himself now that he longed for Will’s company, even then. 

Some days he changes the memory, imagining Will’s eyes on his lips rather than his nose or allowing himself to reach out and grab that errant leaf, running his hand through soft brown curls. Some days he pulls Will in for a kiss. Some days Will reciprocates with heat, some days he pushes Hannibal away offended. Some days he merely accepts the kiss with an inquisitive look. Hannibal can’t be sure which reaction he would have received if he’d tried. 

He can smell the leaves and frost and snow from the many crime scenes they examined together. He can smell Will. He thinks about the way Will moaned his name; imagines him naked in his bed, in the study he will never see again, bent over the chaise in his similarly forsaken office. He pictures Will with his dogs amongst the soft yellow, bright red, and burnt orange bursts of the fall foliage in the DC area, though he’s heard that Will moved.

He remembers meeting Will at the Uffizi and considers what might have been. He debates whether to continue indulging in actual and manipulated memories as more time passes. They are enjoyable, but also quietly painful. He can only hope that the connection that has drawn them together so many times before will eventually return his Will to him. 

**

The breeze is cool on his skin and a leaf falls to the patio beside him, another small one landing in his hair. But Hannibal’s attention is on neither of these things. His focus is absorbed by the chocolate curls bobbing between his thighs. Bright, merciless blue eyes glint up at him with amusement and pride at how utterly debauched he appears, gripping the armrests of the chair and moaning with pleasure. 

The soft mouth that has fully enveloped him with warm heat is similarly merciless; its owner knowing exactly what pace to set, when to pull back and swirl a tongue around the swollen head, always pausing at the very moment the world is about to tip and allowing the pressure to subside just enough before beginning again so that Hannibal has been reduced to literally begging for release. 

Finally Will swallows him down completely, humming pleasantly and sucking as Hannibal pulses, increasing the intensity of his orgasm so that the pleasure verges on pain. 

“Clever boy,” Hannibal pants as Will rises from between his legs and Hannibal is once again amazed by the sight of his Will - completely his - with swollen lips and blown pupils, looking radiant in the fall afternoon. Will’s grin is satisfied and slightly wicked. Exercising power over each other has long been an element of their unique relationship. While that hasn't changed (and Hannibal wouldn't change it), it has found infinitely more pleasant outlets. He reaches forward to pull Will into a kiss, eager to taste himself in his lover's mouth. 

As Will leans into the kiss, he plucks the leaf from Hannibal’s hair and tosses it to the ground.


	23. Blood Red Setting Sun

It’s over quickly. The recognition in the man’s eyes, the foolish attempt to run and the subsequent chase and capture. They might have spent more time toying with him, but as far from civilization as the little beach was they were not so far that they could guarantee no one would hear the man screaming. 

Will may have embraced the darker parts of his nature, but he was not a killer on par with Hannibal. He preferred to keep the body count low and stick to what was necessary. And this was necessary. He gripped the man’s hair, pulling back roughly as a sure hand slid a sharp knife across his neck. Finishing his cut Will let the man drop to the ground, blood leaking out of him at a steady pace and pooling in the sand below him. 

He breathed deeply. He smelled the sea, the salt and brine of the water hitting the beach. But there was always something distinctive about beaches - something beyond the ever-present coconut of sunscreen. It was an undercurrent of decay: the kelp and seaweed thrown up on the sand and quietly rotting, the carcasses of the occasional creature unfortunate enough to meet its end on dry land. A stagnation, too, as water was trapped in pools and left behind when the sea retreated. Mingled with these smells now was the sticky, coppery smell of blood. He looked over at Hannibal, whose maroon eyes appeared more deeply red than brown in the fading sunlight. 

Fitting, Will thought, the setting sun a deep, bloody red reflected on the dark water. Reflected in Hannibal’s eyes. In his own, too, probably, though the effect wouldn’t be quite the same. 

“How do you feel?” Hannibal asked, and Will was momentarily transported back to Baltimore, to Hannibal’s office. 

_It feels good to do bad things to bad people._

“Hungry,” Will said, grinning, and earning a please grin in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually wrote a longer version of this but it started getting convoluted, and I decided I liked the more compact nature of this one instead - a Hannigram murder vignette, if you will. ;)


	24. Candy Corn

Hannibal eyed the bag of so-called candy with disdain. He couldn’t quite bring himself to believe that Will liked these horrendous things, but Ms Katz had been quite adamant. She’d even suggested that he make blondies with them, of all things. 

Apparently Will had mentioned someone bringing them in to the academy and that he’d found them particularly delicious. Another thing he couldn't quite believe, but Ms Katz had once again been adamant and her cohorts, Mr Price and Mr Zeller, had both agreed. Faced with Will apparently having confessed this to all his colleagues, Hannibal had to concede that, however unfortunate, Will enjoyed candy corn. 

Hannibal flipped the bag and read the ingredient list, appalled. Placing it back on the shelf, he resolved to make his own. They would still require corn syrup, but at least he could use Madagascar vanilla and quality butter. He would force some small measure of improvement on this terrible concoction. 

Setting up the ingredients on his counter, Hannibal found himself questioning the lengths to which he was willing to go in pursuit of pleasing Will. It was far from the first time he had questioned himself in this regard. Sighing, he began to sift together the powdered sugar, dried milk and kosher salt.

He was just about to make the sugar mixture when he heard the doorbell. Frowning, he untied his apron. He wasn’t expecting anyone. He felt a stab of annoyance at the intrusion - a feeling that quickly disappeared when he opened the door to see Will. 

Or, more specifically, to see the back of Will’s head. He appeared to have rung the doorbell and then turned around. 

“Will,” Hannibal said, polite and soothing as always. “This a pleasant surprise.” 

He caught a quick glimpse of Will’s wide and uncertain eyes as he turned quickly toward Hannibal, before he looked pointedly at his feet, shifting his weight quickly from one to the other. Hannibal was momentarily disappointed. Will was often a shy and uncertain creature in any type of social setting, but he had seemed to be gaining confidence in that regard. He was more and more open during their sessions . More willing to meet Hannibal’s eyes.

He seemed especially uncertain tonight, hunching his shoulders and clearing his throat, causing Hannibal to realize he’d been considering Will’s unusual demeanor for a touch too long. 

“Would you like to come in?” Hannibal asked. 

Will nodded, quickly, stepping through the door and shrugging out of his jacket. 

“What brings you here tonight, Will?” Hannibal asked, allowing his tongue to curl around Will’s name, enjoying the shape and feel of it.

“I - I hope I’m not imposing,” Will said. 

“I told you once never to apologize for coming to me, Will.” He savored the name again, allowing a fond smile to grace his face. “I meant it.”

Will smiled then, a small, relieved thing. “I was hoping I could talk to you about the latest case. I know our session’s not for a couple of days, but - “ he trailed off as they entered the kitchen. 

“We’re just having conversations,” Hannibal reminded him, retying his apron. “No need to wait for a pre-determined time and date to have a conversation with a friend.” He headed back to the stove as Will took a seat at the bar. 

“Thank you,” he said, watching Hannibal intently as he placed sugar, corn syrup and butter into a two quart saucepan. Will’s attention was a warm feeling on his back, and the corners of Hannibal’s mouth twitched involuntarily. 

He swirled the pan gently, mixing the ingredients, and asked, “What did you want to discuss?” 

“I’m missing something,” Will said from behind him, though he sounded distracted. “This last victim was found with the Four of Cups card tossed at his feet. Every other card has been from the Major Arcana.”

Hannibal made a sound of acknowledgement, swirling the pan gently once again. They’d discussed the Tarot Card Killer before. He’d killed four others - that they’d found, anyway - leaving a different card each time.

“I’m afraid I don’t know much about the Tarot,” Hannibal said.”I don’t know that I can provide any significant insight.” 

Will sighed. “I don’t know much about it either,” he said, “But talking to you always seems to help.” 

“Then I am happy to oblige,” Hannibal said, a pleasant warmth spreading through him. He placed a candy thermometer in the mixture, measuring it at 240 degrees - a few degrees cooler than what he wanted. He looked back at Will, quickly. The profiler’s eyes were trained on Hannibal’s hands. 

“According to Beverly the Four of Cups represents a tendency to take for granted what we have,” Will said, voice soft. 

“Something we are all likely guilty of, at least occasionally,” Hannibal said, carefully adding vanilla to the pan and mixing, then adding the dry ingredients he’d previously sifted. “Was the latest victim more guilty of that than most?”

“On the surface, maybe,” Will mused. Hannibal could imagine the thoughtful look on Will’s face without turning; a soft, faraway look to his eyes as he delved into the corners of his mind. “He had wealth and influence. But he worked hard to achieve it and seemed to appreciate his lifestyle. It doesn't fit.” 

Will was quiet for a moment. “What are you making?” he asked. It was probably because of the smell. Far from the usual scents of Hannibal’s kitchen this smelled . . . bad. 

He was quiet a moment, scraping the mixture from the saucepan onto a baking sheet to allow it to cool. Finally, he spoke, “Candy corn.” 

He might not have Will’s empathy, but he could still feel the other man’s surprise. In fact, he could see the raised eyebrows in his mind’s eye. “You’re making your own candy corn?”

Will chuckled, and Hannibal turned to face him once again, uncharacteristically placing his elbows on the bar to lean toward Will. He wasn’t sure what impulse made him do it, which was worrying, though he choose not to focus on it for the moment. 

“Something funny?” he asked. 

“Only you,” Will said, shaking his head slightly. Hannibal noted that Will had also leaned forward slightly, so that their foreheads were nearly touching. There was a feeling of possibility there, between them, and Hannibal was certain he wasn’t the only one who sensed it. 

Hannibal considered possible outcomes of the moment, but decided to allow it to pass. Standing, he smoothed his apron. “It’s actually not that difficult.”

“Can I help?” Will asked. Hannibal nodded and Will came to stand beside him, radiating warmth. 

“All the similarities were superficial,” Will said as kneaded the dough. They had separated it into three parts, dying one section yellow, another orange, and leaving the third one white. 

“Perhaps the cards aren’t meant to be a representation of the victim,” Hannibal suggested. 

“But then why leave them?” Will asked. “His design is unclear. It’s almost as though he doesn’t know his own mind.” 

“Perhaps the cards are a means of divination, then,” Hannibal said. “An attempt to know himself and his future.”

Will stopped rolling his section of dough and fixed Hannibal with a piercing look. Hannibal met it placidly, though he was surprised at the increase in his heart rate. That was unusual. 

“You might be on to something there,” Will said thoughtfully, returning to the dough. They pinched the strands together and Hannibal rolled them flat, before cutting them into triangles. Will picked one up and popped it into into his mouth. 

“They’re supposed to dry for a few hours,” Hannibal said. 

Will shrugged. “That might change the texture, but the flavor is already nice. Much better than commercial candy corn.” 

Hannibal smiled, genuinely. “Would you like a glass of wine?” 

“Yes,” Will said, without hesitation. 

Once they were seated in Hannibal's study in front of the fire, Will looked intently at Hannibal again. “Why candy corn?” he asked. “I didn’t take you for a fan of that particular product.” 

“I was making it for a dear friend,” Hannibal said. 

“You’ve been talking to Beverly,” Will said. Hannibal noted a slight flush to his cheeks. It was barely noticeable; something that could easily have been blamed on the fire. 

“It was nice of you to make her favorite candy,” Will said. “She was on and on about these candy corn blondies she’d eaten at a party the other night.”

Hannibal stared at him, dumbfounded, and allowing his face to show the full extent of his surprise. 

Will laughed. “I know, it’s weird. I’ve never understood the draw. I’m more of a chocolate truffle guy, myself.” HIs eyes were twinkling. 

Hannibal had been had. He thought of several different methods to deal with Ms Katz - _Beverly_ \- but in the end he had to admit he was amused. And Hannibal was quick to adapt. 

“Well, lucky for you, Will, I am quite the chocolatier. Perhaps you could come by tomorrow and assist?”

Will nodded. “I’d like that.” Hannibal noted the flush on his cheeks was slightly deeper and smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [DIY candy corn](https://www.thekitchn.com/how-to-make-homemade-candy-corn-cooking-lessons-from-the-kitchn-99717). It's a real thing. ;)


	25. Spirits

Will opened his eyes, panting. He was sweating and registered dimly that he was no longer covered by a blanket or sheets - he must have kicked both the sheets and duvet off the bed. He groaned, and felt an arm tighten around his waist. 

“It’s been a long time,” Hannibal said. Will felt a soft kiss against his temple and a gentle hand running through his hair. He could feel himself calming, his breathing and pulse slowly returning to normal. 

“Yeah,” Will exhaled slowly. “I thought maybe they were over.” 

“I was trying to wake you,” Hannibal said. “What were you dreaming about?”

“The usual,” Will said. He felt Hannibal’s expectant silence, but he preferred not to elaborate. ‘The usual’ involved many of their past hurts. Things they’d moved beyond, but that would always be there submerged and waiting to surface. Finally, he quipped, “the spirits are restless.”

He shuddered, and Hannibal hugged him close, then moved away briefly to grab the sheet from the end of the bed and pull it up to cover them. With the sheet back in place, Hannibal pulled Will closer. “I should probably shower,” he said. Hannibal hummed against the back of his neck, kissing his hair. 

“Hannibal,” Will said, softly, goosebumps prickling as he felt fingers trail down his arm. He shifted slightly, pushing his back flush against Hannibal’s chest, seeking more contact. 

“The veil between the living and the dead is thinnest on Halloween,” Hannibal said. “It’s only a few days away; no wonder your spirits are getting restless. Soon the dead shall be allowed a night among the living.” 

“Is that supposed to be comforting?” Will asked - though he _was_ comforted. Hannibal’s breath was warm on his neck, his voice was soothing, and he was tracing small circles on Will’s stomach, moving slowly down from his navel. 

Will sucked in a breath. “What do we do to get rid of the spirits?” he asked. 

“We don’t,” Hannibal said, his voice thick and his fingers shifting ever so slightly lower to tangle in Will’s pubic hair. “We honor the lives they lived and we honor them by continuing to live our own.” 

Will shifted his hips against Hannibal’s erection. “You certainly feel alive,” he said. 

“As do you,” Hannibal said, fingertips grazing down Will’s cock. 

Will moaned softly and turned, crashing their mouths together. “If you’re trying to distract me from my nightmare it’s working,” he said. 

“And how else might I help you?” Hannibal asked as his hand moved between them. Will rolled further on top of Hannibal, pushing the other man down on the bed and moving to settle himself between his thighs. 

“Hand me the lube,” he said. Hannibal passed him the jar with a wicked smile. 

“Alive indeed,” he said. Will licked his lips and began to stretch his lover. Burying himself in Hannibal was in many ways an overwhelming experience and he pressed in slowly. Once he was flush against the other man’s hips he paused, allowing both of them time to adjust. 

“Perhaps we can go to the All Saints Day Festival,” Hannibal said, sounding quite a bit more conversational than Will thought he should in the moment.

“Um, sure,” Will said, shifting his weight and beginning to move slowly. Hannibal looked like he was about to say something else, but Will changed his angle slightly and grinned when all he heard was a low moan. 

He pressed their lips together, enjoying the feel of Hannibal moaning into his mouth, before training kisses over his lover’s jaw and sucking a bruise into his neck. Shifting back, he moved to press Hannibal’s legs up and back. “Touch yourself,” he said. Hannibal complied, a hand moving to stroke his cock. His eyes were closed. 

“Look at me,” Will demanded. Hannibal opened his eyes and met Will’s, stroking himself steadily until he came, throwing his head back and arching slightly. The sight of it was enough to send Will over the edge of his own orgasm, pulsing hotly into Hannibal’s ass and collapsing onto his stomach, not caring about the mess. 

Will felt strong fingers run through his hair again, gentle and soothing. He groaned. 

“After nightmare sweat and sex sweat I definitely need a shower,” he said. “And if you keep doing that I will fall asleep like this.” 

Hannibal chuckled lightly. “Go start the shower,” he said, “I’ll be there in a minute.” 

Will stepped into the shower without waiting for the water to warm, cleaning himself sleepily and smiling contentedly when Hannibal joined him. Clean, they made their way back to bed. Will was unsurprised to see clean sheets. 

“We should go to the festival,” he said, crawling into bed. “We might not have any graves to visit, but we can light candles for the loved ones we’ve lost.” 

“We can do that here if you’d prefer not to go,” Hannibal said. 

“I want to,” Will said, placing his hand over Hannibal’s on his stomach. “It will help our spirits rest.” His voice was soft and soon he was asleep. The spirits of the past remained quiet for the remainder of the night.


	26. Trick-or-Treat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And . . . this is silly but I couldn't resist. :)

Beverly was setting up the side table when Hannibal entered the conference room with four take-out style boxes, each tied carefully with black and orange ribbons. She smiled to herself. It had been silly of them, really, but they had bet on whether the doctor would make anything they told him was _Will’s favorite_. She said he would. Brian and Jimmy both disagreed.

She'd asked Jack as well. His response was to tell her that he was going to pretend she’d never asked because it was completely inappropriate before agreeing with her under his breath.

As long as they were betting, she saw no reason not to suggest one of her favorite treats. She had a feeling Dr Hannibal Lecter would be especially appalled by candy corn. Which would only make it more amusing if he _did_ show up with those blondies. 

He smiled at her politely, offering her the boxes. 

“The bottom one is for the group,” Hannibal said, indicating the largest box. “Pumpkin cheesecake brownies. But the other three are for you.” 

Beverly raised her eyebrows. “For me?”

“Yes, as a special thank you.” Hannibal’s nod was almost a bow. 

“Thank you,” she said, carefully. “So you didn’t end up getting the candy corn, huh?” She had to admit she was a bit disappointed. She had been so certain that Hannibal would make them. He was adept at hiding his emotions, always calm and polite but impassive. But she would still have sworn he had a thing for Will. 

Maybe she’d been wrong. 

Hannibal’s smiled broadened a bit more. “Oh no, I made some. And I used them to make those blondies you suggested.” Beverly’s smile turned smug as Hannibal continued. “I gave them to Will already. He was very appreciative. I’m quite grateful to you.” 

Beverly bit her cheek to keep from laughing. _What had Will thought?_ she wondered. He’d probably been completely bewildered. She would have liked to have seen that, though she lamented the loss of the blondies. Will probably wouldn’t eat them - maybe she could talk him into sharing. 

“Since you were so kind as to inform me of Will’s favorite Halloween treat, when I gave him the blondies I asked him yours.” The man was practically beaming.

Suddenly she had no problem controlling her laughter. _Oh no,_ she thought. Hannibal reached out and untied the ribbons on one of the smaller packages. Caramels. 

Beverly hated caramels. 

“There are three flavors,” Hannibal said. “This one is a traditional salted caramel and the other two are Earl Grey tea and orange.” His smile was intense and wolfish. 

Beverly smiled politely. “Thank you, that was very kind.”

“You must try one,” Hannibal said, passing her the open box of salted caramels. “I insist.” 

Staring at him, Beverly considered her options. She could confess to the ruse, but Hannibal would probably consider it to have been impolite - and he was big on politeness. She could refuse the caramel. Was there a polite way to do that? Probably, but she couldn't think of how at this precise moment. 

Or, she could bite the bullet and politely choke it down. Tentatively she reached for a caramel. As soon as she put it in her mouth - prepared to chew, swallow and say “yum” - she heard laughter from the doorway. 

Will entered, looking more amused than she had ever seen him. 

“I can’t believe you got her to eat one,” he said to Hannibal. Hannibal’s eyes were dancing. 

Beverly stared at them, the offensive caramel still in her mouth, held tightly between her teeth. She noticed Will was holding a box very similar to the ones Hannibal had brought, also tied with black and orange ribbons. 

“Trick-or-treat, Beverly,” he said with a genuine smile. “Or, in this case, both. Candy corn blondies.” 

“Can I spit out this caramel now?” she asked. The only response was more laughter. 

“I think you should eat it,” Will said. “It’s homemade, you know, like the candy corns. Much better than any store-bought caramels you’ve had.”

Beverly chewed and forced herself to swallow. It wasn’t terrible. 

“This must have taken you forever, Dr Lecter,” she said, laughing herself now. “And all to play a trick on me.”

“I had help,” Hannibal said, gesturing to Will and looking at him fondly. And Beverly knew she was right - Dr Lecter had a thing for her friend. It was so subtle it was hard to catch, but there was a very slight softening around his eyes whenever he looked at Will. 

Will laughed. “Good thing, too. I was there all night last night.” 

“All night, huh?” Beverly said suggestively. Hannibal looked amused, but Will looked slightly scandalized. It was too easy, really, to make that man blush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Earl Grey Tea caramels are a thing. Never thought to try that, but unlike my version of Beverly in this story I like caramels so now I'm curious.
> 
> And unrelated, but I'm having the worst time with summary on this because of the character limit! I see why a lot of people do these as a series. Live and learn I suppose.


	27. Costume Shopping

“Thanks for coming with me,” Abigail said, looking at Will over the racks of clothes. “This probably isn’t really your thing.” 

“I enjoy doing things with you,” Will said, shrugging slightly. “I might be bad at socializing but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be here.” 

Abigail smiled, some of her shyness lifting. “I like being here with you, too,” she said. 

Will felt a surprising warmth and lightness at her words. He’d never given any serious thought to having children, but then Hannibal had made the two of them Abigail’s guardians. Abigail was not exactly a child, but he still hoped he could provide some guidance as she moved into adulthood. 

She flipped through the racks of dresses looking for what she described as an “Old-timey” white dress for a Bride of Frankenstein costume. 

“You could go with a different color,” Will suggested, when she got to the end of the rack without finding anything she liked. 

“Maybe,” she said, not sounding convinced. “You should try to find something for your costume while we’re here.” 

Will fingered the vampire teeth in his pocket. They’d been to two actual costume shops before heading to the thrift store. Abigail clearly had something specific in mind. She’d bought a wig and some make-up but no outfit. But at the second store she’d convinced Will to buy the teeth because, according to her, he had to dress up as something.

“I don’t need anything,” he said. “I’ll go as an FBI profiler turned vampire.”

The look Abigail gave him could only be described as exasperated and he sighed. They were shopping for costumes for Hannibal’s party - the one he was having specifically for Abigail, so she could get out of the hospital for an evening, even if it was to be around a bunch of adults. Knowing Hannibal everything will be extravagant, including the man’s costume. He should probably make an effort.

In the end Will doubted Hannibal would care if he showed up in his normal clothes with some fake vampire teeth in his mouth and nothing more. He never seemed to mind when Will missed social cues or failed to act appropriately. It was surprising, really, given how much Hannibal valued politeness. But he'd be glad to know Will had put some thought into dressing up, and it was clear that Abigail was excited about it. And this was about her. 

“Any suggestions?” he asked. She glanced around the store then, grinning, made a beeline for the back. 

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice these before!” In front of her were wedding gowns and tuxedos. Pulling down one of the tuxedos, she held it up in front of Will before thrusting it at him. 

“What am I, a vampire groom?”

This time Abigail rolled her eyes. “Just try it on. It looks like it’ll fit you.”

Will didn't particularly want to, but he took the tuxedo from her and headed for the fitting room. Surprisingly, it did fit. The arms and legs were both slightly too long, but nothing that wasn’t manageable for an evening. The previous owner had apparently had Will’s physique and about half an inch. Sensing she would like it, he walked out to see what Abigail thought. 

“You look great,” she said, and held up a sleek wedding dress, lacy but somehow understated. “And I found my dress.”

“I don’t know, Abigail,” Will said, having second thoughts. “Do I really need to get a tuxedo for this?” 

He turned to look at himself in the mirror.

“Yes,” Abigail said. And then, soft enough that he couldn't quite hear her, “Hannibal is going to love seeing you in that.”

“What?” Will asked. 

She grinned, “I said you should definitely get it.” Sensing he was still uncertain she added, “Please? For me. You can be the debonair vampire groom.”

Will smiled then and said, “Sure, ok. For you.” As he changed back into his regular clothes she clutched her dress closer, smiling to herself. She was really looking forward to this party.


	28. Hot Cider

Hannibal was cutting apples when Will walked into the kitchen. He’d stretched out on the couch after lunch with the intention of reading, but had fallen asleep instead.

Leaning against the doorframe he watched Hannibal’s sure hands as he quartered apple after apple, adding them to a large pot. Hannibal in the kitchen was like a carefully choreographed dance, every movement fluid and well-formed. Will doubted he would ever tire of seeing it. Hannibal added an orange and a few spices to the pot before covering it. Cinnamon sticks and cloves, Will thought. 

He stretched lazily and moved further into the kitchen so he could wrap his hands around Hannibal’s waist and rest his head against the other man’s back. 

“You let me sleep for too long,” he said. 

“You needed it,” Hannibal replied. Will hummed pleasantly against his back. 

“Using up the rest of our apples?” He rubbed his cheek against Hannibal’s shirt, enjoying the feel of the soft fabric on his skin. 

“Apple cider,” Hannibal said. “It needs to cook for about 3 hours, so it should be ready as the sun sets.”

“That’ll be nice,” Will said, pressing a kiss against Hannibal’s neck. “We can drink hot cider and watch the sunset.”

“It needs to cook for 3 hours, you said?” Will stepped back. 

“Total. Two hours and then I mash the apples, another hour after that.” Hannibal said. 

“Two hours.” Will hummed, trailing his fingers down Hannibal’s arm. 

“Is there something you were hoping to do during those two hours, Will?” Hannibal asked, chuckling softly. 

“I could be persuaded,” Will said coyly, “but I was thinking more along the lines of a walk.” 

Hannibal nodded and removed his apron. “That would be nice.”

*

They were still familiarizing themselves with the property, and Will suggested they head south. Hannibal followed, happily, enjoying the sight of Will heading through the woods. His hair was still slightly mussed from sleep and his curls stuck out at unruly angles. At Hannibal’s insistence his scarf and jacket had been upgraded, but otherwise all he needed was a pack of dogs following him to the complete the picture of him as Hannibal first knew him. Hannibal smiled. 

Catching his mood, Will looked at him and returned the smile. “What?” he asked. 

“I was thinking of when we first met,” Hannibal said. 

Will made a small sound in response and Hannibal reached for his hand, squeezing. Memories from that time could be pleasant, but were often hard for both of them. 

“There are things I might do differently,” Hannibal said. 

“That’s not the same as feeling regret,” Will looked at him sharply, but his words were devoid of anger. 

“No,” Hannibal conceded. 

“I don’t regret where we are now,” Will said. His tone didn’t invite further conversation on the matter and Hannibal didn’t push. It was still new to him not to push, but Will would bring up the past his own way and in his own time and Hannibal was content to let him lead. Instead, he pulled Will closer so they were walking shoulder to shoulder, fingers wound together tightly. 

“Did you use up all the apples?” Will asked, steering the conversation to safer topics. 

“There are still plenty to eat,” Hannibal said. 

“We may have gone a bit overboard,” Will laughed. 

“I enjoyed watching you.” Hannibal thought about Will reaching for apples, the long lines of his limbs and taut muscles moving under his shirt. It had been a lovely day, and he had done several sketches of Will in the apple trees.

“I know you did,” Will said wryly, a small smile on his lips and his eyes twinkling. “That’s why we went a bit overboard.” He chuckled, and Hannibal pulled him close to steal the laugh from his lips. He tasted like the woods; pine, old leaves and the low winter sun. 

*

Will helped mash the apples and they retreated to their bedroom while the soon-to-be-cider simmered for another hour. The smell of the woods clung to Will’s skin. Hannibal inhaled him deeply, his nose grazing across Will’s chest, down to his groin and then down one leg to his feet, where Hannibal lovingly sucked his toes before moving back up the other leg. 

“You know we only have an hour, right?” Will laughed, as Hannibal placed a kiss on his navel. Hannibal kissed him again, no longer savoring but hard and hungry. Will moaned into the kiss and arched into Hannibal’s body, his moans deepening and breath coming faster as Hannibal stretched and then entered him. 

Hannibal loved watching Will as his pleasure crested: lips slightly parted, head thrown back, eyes neither fully closed nor open, hands sometimes above his head, sometimes in Hannibal’s hair, on his ass, sometimes grabbing the sheets but always, always clutching at something. He felt Will’s stomach muscles clenching, hips shifting, his whole body tightening in anticipation as Hannibal stroked him until that final moment when Hannibal’s name left his lips, sometimes as a moan, sometimes a soft exhalation, sometimes merely breath around the shape of it. 

As Will’s body clenched around him Hannibal lost himself inside his lover, burying his nose into Will’s hair and moving to kiss his clavicle. 

*

Wearing pajama pants - something he would never have done so early in the evening before Will - and wrapped in a blanket, Hannibal stood in the kitchen straining the cider and watching as Will built a small fire in the backyard. He should put together something for dinner, but in the meantime Will had decided they should enjoy the early evening and the sunset with a fire and hot cider. Not that Hannibal was opposed. He poured two mugs of cider and walked outside to join Will on the patio. 

Will blew across the liquid and took a small sip, testing the temperature. 

“It’s delicious,” he said. They sat in silence for a time, Will resting his head against Hannibal’s shoulder, each enjoying their cider and watching the fire. 

“I meant what I said earlier,” Will said, breaking the silence. “I don’t regret being here.”

Hannibal said nothing, merely pulled him close. He tasted like cider, like the smoke of the fire, like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started this unsure where I was going and it ended up sweeter than I thought it would. Also sorry for switching POVs after the first part, there. I spent some time trying to think of a way to rewrite it so it was all one POV, or maybe alternating, or book-ended . . . and then I just left it. It is what it is lol. Thanks for reading. :)


	29. First Frost

Will woke up with his legs tangled in Hannibal’s, his arm across Hannibal’s chest, and his head burrowed into Hannibal’s armpit. Hannibal’s arm was around him protectively, and he was very nearly completely under the covers. And still he was freezing. He shifted his legs slightly, trying to tuck himself more fully into the other man’s warmth. 

“Will,” Hannibal said sleepily, “Your feet are freezing.” 

“It’s cold in here,” Will grumbled into his side. 

Hannibal sighed tiredly, “I’ll turn on the heat.” He began to get up but, feeling guilty, Will pushed him back down onto the bed.

“You’re tired,” Will said. “I’ll do it.” 

Bracing himself for the chill, Will forced himself out of bed. He grabbed one of Hannibal’s thick sweaters from the closet and put it on, pulling heavier socks from the dresser as well before he he padded downstairs and clicked on the heat. 

Wandering into the kitchen Will decided he might as well make coffee. Not for the first time, he was grateful that Hannibal had purchased a relatively normal coffee maker for their home. Will had always used to cheap drip coffee makers - whatever go the job done - and this particular brand still cost about 10 times what he used to spend. But he knew how to use it, and that was a plus. He wasn’t sure he could ever have figured out the crazy contraption Hannibal used to have in his kitchen in Baltimore. 

He also had to admit, however begrudgingly, that it made much better, hotter coffee than any of his previous coffee makers. As he waited for the coffee he leaned against the counter and enjoyed the smell of it. Scent, or at least his awareness of it, had become a larger focus for him during the months they’d spent together and, though he’d never have Hannibal’s nose, he could tell that this was a different blend of coffee than what they’d made the day before. 

He poured two mugs and headed back upstairs where Hannibal was still laying in bed with an arm over his eyes. Will set Hannibal’s coffee on the nightstand before settling back onto his side of the bed. The house was beginning to warm, but it was still chilly and he could feel the cold in his shoulder and his jaw. 

Hannibal made no sound or movement as Will climbed back into bed. “You ok?” he asked. 

“Headache,” Hannibal grunted. 

“Really?” Will asked. 

“Why on earth would I make that up?” Hannibal asked, irritated. 

“Well, what do you know,” Will chuckled. “The Great Hannibal Lecter gets headaches. I didn’t think that was possible.”

“I’m not superhuman,” Hannibal said. “I occasionally get sick as well.” 

Will looked amused. “I don’t think anyone ever called you _super_ human, Hannibal. _In_ human, maybe.”

“You know, it’s impolite to laugh at another’s misfortune,” Hannibal said. 

Will chuckled again. “Since when have I ever been polite?” He moved closer and ran his hand through Hannibal’s hair, soothingly. 

“Thank you,” Hannibal said quietly. 

“Would you like me to get you some painkillers?” Will asked. 

Hannibal was silent for a moment before speaking, sounding almost hesitant when he did. “Can we stay like this for a while?” 

“Of course,” Will said. He watched Hannibal’s face for a few moments, seeing some of the tension drain from it as he continued to run his fingers through the silvery blonde strands of hair. He’d seen Hannibal in various domestic settings and states of vulnerability, but somehow this moment surpassed them all. It wasn’t often that Will was the one doing the comforting and he found he enjoyed it. He continued running his hand through Hannibal’s hair, taking occasional sips of coffee, the pattern lulling him into a state of calm. 

He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting like that, or how long he’d been staring into space, when he heard Hannibal shift slightly and say “is that my sweater?”

Will nodded, absently, then looked over at Hannibal. “Would you rather I didn’t wear it?”

“On the contrary,” Hannibal said. “I rather like it on you. Though if I felt slightly better I’d still take it off you.” He shifted, thoughtfully. “You’ve never worn my clothes before. At least, not when it was not a necessity.” 

Will shrugged. He hadn’t thought about it when he did it - he wanted to wear Hannibal’s sweater, so he did. “First time for everything, I suppose. I’m wearing your sweater, you have a headache -“ he trailed off, looking out the window. “There was frost on the ground this morning,” he added, absently. 

“First frost,” Hannibal said. “The drop in barometric pressure explains my headache. It’s not usually for at least another month here.” 

“That explains why you didn’t have the heat on,” Will teased, setting his coffee mug down and snuggling into the covers next to Hannibal.

“Yes,” Hannibal said, “I’ll have to make sure that doesn’t happen again. Your feet are very cold.” 

Will laughed and moved to kiss Hannibal on the cheek, but he turned to capture Will’s lips with his own. “Oh mongoose,” he said as he pulled away. 

“Mongoose?” Will laughed. “We never call each other pet names, _Hannibal_.” 

“First time for everything,” Hannibal said, nuzzling into Will’s neck. 

*

When Hannibal awoke hours later the house was warm, the coffee was cold and Will was once again wrapped around him. His headache was gone and he looked at the clock; another first, or at least a first in a very long time. It was nearly noon, but Hannibal made no move to get up or to wake Will. Instead he looked at the ceiling, smiling, wondering what other firsts would come his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I just want to write sweet fluffiness right now lol.


	30. Trick-or-Treat II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trick or Treat II since it happens twice in this prompt list - or, Abigail's party. because it did need to happen.

Abigail approached Hannibal’s door excitedly. She rang the doorbell as Will was still coming up the walk and waited expectantly. She didn’t have to wait long before it opened and Hannibal’s frame filled the entrance. 

“Trick or treat!” She said by way of greeting. 

“Treat, I think,” Hannibal said, smiling. Abigail watched him intently as Will moved up the walk to join her. Hannibal was difficult to read in most situations, but when it came to Will he was not nearly as subtle as he thought. Will seemed slightly oblivious to it - or maybe he was just shy, because he definitely noticed the way Hannibal was noticing him today. 

Abigail watched with amusement as he rubbed the back of his neck and shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. But beneath the embarrassment she could tell he was quietly pleased to have made an impression. 

“I wasn’t aware you owned a tuxedo, Will,” Hannibal said, stepping aside to let them through. 

“We found it at the thrift store,” Abigail said, not waiting for him to answer. “It fits him really well, don’t you think?”

“The pant legs and the sleeves are a little long,” Will said, fidgeting with one of the sleeves.

Hannibal reached out to touch the fabric, grazing Will’s hand as he did. “It’s good quality. A lucky find.” 

He circled Will’s wrist gently with his fingers, indicating about where the sleeve should end. “It wouldn’t need to be taken in much - my tailor could do it easily.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Will said. “I probably won’t ever wear it again.” 

“It’s never a bad idea to have a good tuxedo,” Hannibal said. “And it really is a remarkably good fit.” He gently lowered Will’s arm and released his wrist. 

Turning to Abigail, Hannibal said, “And did you find this dress in the same location?” 

“Yes,” Abigail said, watching Will out of the corner of her eye. Hannibal might have been looking at her but Will was looking at Hannibal, his expression in that moment unguarded and happy. Abigail smiled and twirled. 

“Well, you look magnificent as Frankenstein’s bride,” Hannibal said, then added, looking amused, “And does that make Will Frankenstein?” 

Abigail made a face. “That would be weird, don’t you think?” 

Hannibal chuckled in response.

“And anyway,” Abigail continued, “you know Frankenstein was the scientist, not the monster.” 

“Then perhaps Will is Frankenstein, after all” Hannibal said, turning his attention back to the other man. 

“Will’s a vampire,” Abigail said. Will pulled the vampire teeth out of his pocket and popped them in his mouth, grinning to show off the fangs. Hannibal smiled in response. 

“Well,” Hannibal said, “I think we’ve lingered in the foyer long enough. Let’s head into the study and I’ll get you drinks. The other guests should be arriving soon.”

Hannibal gave them gourmet hot chocolate spiked with brandy before disappearing briefly to put on his costume. He even added a tiny bit to Abigail’s and handed it to her saying, conspiratorially, “Don’t tell Dr. Bloom.” 

Abigail looked at Will to see if he would object, but he just smiled into his own mug. 

Hannibal reappeared long enough for Will to take in his cape and mask and comment “The Mask of the Red Death” before the doorbell rang. Hannibal seemed pleased and Will explained to Abigail that it was an Edgar Allen Poe reference as Hannibal got the door.

Will and Abigail were left to their own devices while Hannibal played host. It was a - for Hannibal - relatively small gathering, so he hadn’t hired any staff. Abigail was grateful for the small size, although she suspected he’d made that decision more for Will’s benefit than for her. She hadn’t been able to observe Will much in social situations, but she got the impression he was generally uncomfortable with them. 

The party wore on and Abigail took to people watching. Will had a tendency to stand on the edge of groups, she noticed, so that he could appear to be social without doing much talking. Smart. She also noticed that Hannibal, ever the gracious host, still made his way back to Will far more often than any other guest.

She smiled when she saw Dr Bloom give Will an appraising look as they were talking that he either didn’t notice or choose to ignore. As she looked closer she decided he was probably ignoring it. Abigail could tell he’d had a thing for Dr Bloom at one point, and based on that look it hadn’t been one sided. But Will had been tracking Hannibal’s movements around the party all night. 

It was interesting and, if she was honest, a little disappointing to watch. She’d always hoped social awkwardness ended with high school, but it seemed like a fair amount would linger into adulthood. 

“How are you enjoying the party?” Dr Bloom asked, coming to stand beside her. Abigail sipped her hot chocolate - this one without brandy - and said “I’m enjoying people watching.”

Dr. Bloom laughed. “I’m sure it’s not terribly interesting to be at a party without anyone else your age.”

“Oh, I’m just glad to get out for a night,” Abigail said. The party had actually been very interesting and enjoyable. She had drifted to the edges because she wanted to, not because she was bored. But she decided she didn’t want to say any of that to her therapist tonight. 

“I bet,” Dr. Bloom said, but she seemed suddenly distracted. Abigail followed her eyes. While they’d been talking, Will had been cornered by one of the few Baltimore society people Hannibal had invited. He looked slightly panicked, but Hannibal touched him gently on the forearm, said something to the woman and placed his hand on Will’s upper back, between his shoulder blades. Will seemed to relax immediately and leaned toward Hannibal - only very slightly, but enough that it was noticeable to Abigail. And, apparently, Dr. Bloom, who cleared her throat.

“Dr. Bloom, can I ask you a favor?” she asked. Dr. Bloom turned to look at her. 

“Of course,” she said. 

“Would you mind giving me a ride back? Will brought me here but he also took me shopping earlier in the week and I’m the opposite direction from his house. I don’t want to impose on him too much. Besides, it would be nice to ride with you.” She gave Dr Bloom her most disarming smile.

Dr. Bloom’s face softened. “Of course. Did you want to go now?” 

Abigail nodded. “If you don’t mind. I’m kind of tired.” She wasn’t, but she wanted things in motion already when she told Will she was leaving so he didn’t have the chance to object and try to leave with her. 

“Let me say some goodbyes and I’ll be right back,” Dr Bloom said. Abigail nodded again. Turning back to watch the party, Abigail saw the woman who had cornered Will laughing at something Hannibal said. Hannibal’s hand was still on Will’s back. The woman drifted away and Hannibal moved his hand from Will’s back to his shoulder, so that he had his arm around the the other man. He leaned to whisper something in Will’s ear. Whatever it was caused Will to turn his head and meet Hannibal’s eyes, lips slightly parted. 

They looked like they were about to kiss. Abigail averted her eyes, feeling heat rise to her face. That had been exactly what she hoped for when she saw the tux and forced it on Will, but somehow the moment she’d witnessed also seemed unbearably intimate. Watching them felt like an intrusion and she looked down at her hands instead. 

“You must be Abigail,” a woman’s voice said. Abigail looked up. It was the woman who had cornered Will. She nodded. 

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you,” the woman extended her hand. “Hannibal speaks very highly of you. So does his friend Will Graham. I didn’t realize they were both your guardians.” Her tone was heavy with implication and, regardless of how correct it might be, Abigail decided she didn’t like it. She looked over to where Will and Hannibal had been standing, noticing they were no longer there.

Thankfully, Dr. Bloom choose that moment to reappear. “You ready?” she asked Abigail. Abigail nodded, stifling a yawn for show. 

Dr. Bloom turned to the other woman. “Please excuse us, I need to get Abigail home.” 

“It was nice to meet you,” Abigail said as Dr. Bloom ushered her away. 

“That woman will grab you and not let you go,” Dr. Bloom said as soon as they were out of earshot. 

Abigail giggled. “So I saw. Do you mind if I just say goodbye to Han - uh, Dr. Lecter, before we leave? I want to make sure I thank him.” 

“Of course,” Dr. Bloom said. “I think he went into the kitchen if you want to catch him.”

Pushing the kitchen door open, Abigail called “Hannibal?” She peered around the door to see Will jump away from Hannibal while trying to make it seem like he hadn’t moved (and failing). He looked immediately nervous. Hannibal regarded her calmly, though a few hairs were uncharacteristically out of place. 

“Oh, sorry,” Abigail said, resisting the urge to laugh at two grown men acting like they’d been caught making out. Which, maybe they had. “I just wanted to say goodbye and thank you. Dr. Bloom’s going to take me home.” 

“I can take you,” Will said quickly. 

“No need,” Abigail said. “You should stay here and enjoy yourself.” She might have put a bit more emphasis than strictly necessary on _enjoy yourself_ and she ducked back behind the door before either of them could comment.

Instead of immediately taking off she stilled herself and pressed close to the door. Hannibal’s house was surprisingly sound proof and at first all she heard was murmurs. She pressed herself closer to the door, standing still and quiet. 

“Do you regret it?” she heard Hannibal ask. Will must have said no, or maybe shook his head, because she didn’t hear a response but Hannibal said “then what’s to be embarrassed about?”

Once again Will’s response was more of a murmur but she heard Hannibal laugh, soft and low. “I think she got what she wanted when she talked you into showing up here in that tuxedo. And left without you.” Whatever Will might have been about to say was stopped by the unmistakeable sound of lips meeting and parting. Abigail grinned to herself and slipped away. 

Dr Bloom gave her a questioning look as she headed toward the door, but Abigail shook her head, still smiling broadly and said “It was just really nice to be here tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And hopefully I did it justice, since I still wanted to (attempt) to tell things from Abigail's perspective.


	31. Halloween

Will stared at the empty spot on the wall. He’d been intentionally ignoring it, so it was possible it’d been gone for a while. Maybe Hannibal had moved it. He didn’t want it back, but its absence was still unsettling. 

“Hannibal?” he called through the back door. “Did you do something with the scythe?” 

Hannibal emerged from the study, looking confused. “No.”

“It’s - disappeared,” Will said. “Do you think someone has been here?” 

“If it’s gone and neither of us moved it then it stands to reason someone has,” Hannibal said reasonably. “Of course, the shed is not locked. But it would still be wise to check the property.” He sounded much calmer about it than Will felt. 

A thorough search turned up nothing, including the scythe. 

“How concerned should we be?” Will asked, his voice higher than he would have preferred. He liked the property: the isolation and beauty of it were appealing to him. So was the idea of having a place to call home. They’d been on the run for months, renting short-term apartments, staying in hotels, and sleeping on trains - once even on the benches of a train station when reservation options had been limited. Will was used to being transient, having moved around for most of his life. But he found himself craving the opportunity to stand still. 

He sighed. They’d only been here for a few months. He shouldn’t feel so attached. 

Hannibal pulled him close, nose in Will’s hair, and Will felt him inhaling deeply. “It’s likely nothing,” Hannibal said, soothingly. “We should be vigilant, but it was probably a youthful prank. Or someone taking advantage of the lack of a lock to obtain the tool they needed.”

Will nodded, relaxing. He felt Hannibal’s lips on his temple. “I have no desire to leave here soon either,” Hannibal said quietly, “but I find comfort in the knowledge that you will be with me, should that be necessary.”

Will breathed out, slowly, releasing most of his anxiety. He attempted to put the missing scythe out of his head as he returned to the shed. Most of the contents he was placing in the trash, and as he cleared areas he inspected the wood to see how much of it needed to be replaced. Hannibal was probably right when he said they should tear it down and hire someone to build a new one, but Will liked the idea of having a project. 

He hadn’t realized how long he’d been working until Hannibal opened the door. “It’s getting dark,” Hannibal said. “Would you like to light the pumpkins?”

Will nodded. It was a bit of home in a foreign land. Hannibal handed him a mug. “An apple cider old fashioned,” he said.

“Are we still trying to use the apples?” Will laughed. “I thought we drank through all the cider you made.” 

Hannibal merely smiled. Will seemed to enjoy it, so he’d made more. 

As they left the shed to light the pumpkins, Will heard a rustling in the trees and, glancing over, thought he saw a tail disappear into the brush. He looked at Hannibal to see if he’d noticed, and then crept silently toward the spot where he’d heard the sound. There was nothing. 

He shrugged at Hannibal’s questioning look and they moved to light the pumpkins. They were beginning to sag slightly - they had probably carved them too early - but it was still nice to see their handwork lighting up the night. Will leaned into Hannibal’s chest and smiled. He had never been one for holidays, but he found himself marking this one in his mind: their first Halloween together. 

There was a noise from behind them, and Will turned to look. He thought he saw the sunset reflect briefly off something metal, but when he had fully turned he saw nothing. He looked at Hannibal, who had also turned, although Will wasn’t certain if it was because he had turned or if Hannibal had also heard something. 

“Did you hear that?” Will asked, sincerely hoping the answer was yes. 

Hannibal nodded. “Probably an animal.” 

“Probably,” Will agreed, but neither was convinced and he could feel their mutual tension. 

“Dinner?” Hannibal asked after a few quiet moments. Will wasn’t sure he was hungry, but he nodded anyway. He took Hannibal’s hand and squeezed it, cataloguing in his mind the few items he would take if they had to leave quickly. 

Dinner was chicken with wild rice, and Hannibal served them warm apple pie with vanilla ice cream for dessert. Some of their meals together had become so oddly _normal_ that it still took Will by surprise on occasion. He was relaxing and sipping another apple cider old fashioned when he saw the man walk by the window. 

Setting his glass down sharply, he ran to the door and opened it, grabbing a kitchen knife along the way. Hannibal was not far behind, also holding a kitchen knife, eyes full of murderous intent. Will felt all his senses heighten as he gripped the knife tighter, ready to attack. The man was not more than 15 feet away, walking blithely across the property, moonlight glinting off the scythe he was carrying. 

The man didn’t look at them, instead walking steadily toward the forest. Hannibal began to follow, gliding quietly across the ground. The man didn’t veer from his path. Will moved to the right with the intent of flanking the man. They were quiet, but Will still thought it was odd that he hadn’t noticed them. Something was off about it, but he wasn’t certain what - until the man walked straight through a tree and disappeared. 

Will stopped and looked at Hannibal. As they stared at each other a dog ran silently between them, disappearing into the woods. There was a brief rustling as the animal disappeared into the brush, then silence. For a few tense moments neither man moved. Then Will relaxed his grip on the knife and walked back into the house. 

He had already finished his drink and poured himself a whiskey when Hannibal entered the kitchen. They looked at each other silently. 

“So,” Will said. 

“So,” Hannibal echoed, pouring his own drink. 

“Can we go to bed and agree never to speak of this again?” Will asked. 

Hannibal nodded. He checked the clock as they climbed into bed. "Halloween is almost over," he commented, pulling Will close to him. "Another 20 minutes and the spirits of the dead may no longer walk among the living." 

Will pressed himself more fully against Hannibal. Neither man spoke, watching the clock until the numbers switched to 12:00, indicating Halloween was officially over, before either of them closed their eyes and attempted to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last prompt, last chapter. It's been really fun and very challenging doing these. I'm proud that I have essentially managed to stick to one a day (after starting late). There are little things I would change or polish about pretty much all of them, since my editing was mostly for grammar and coherence and not anything more intense, but there are a couple I really like. I'm particularly fond of the one I wrote for Falling Leaves - which is also the only one I wrote in the present tense. (I write present tense occasionally but not that often).
> 
> Thank you to everyone who came on this journey with me. I really appreciate you reading and commenting! If you had a favorite or something you liked I would love to hear it - comments give me ideas, which is always fun! 
> 
> I have a couple other things I was working on before starting this that I hope to finish, and I really want to go back to the AU I wrote for my [other Halloween prompt work](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27000538/chapters/65963056) and see if I can come up with more Medium Will. 
> 
> Anyway, enough notes. Happy Halloween Everyone!


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